Work Text
AUGUST 15th 2038 8:29pm. 1554 PARK AVE. DETROIT, MICHIGAN
The smooth edges of the coin rolled fluidly across his synthetic skin, each rivet and bump was perfectly memorized by the androids deft fingers. Flicking it from hand to hand, a clear ding filling the empty air with every vibrating toss of the coin. The elevator ride had been slow, if it could feel antsy it would but there was a cool numbness that filled its entire body. A ding announced its arrival to floor 70. Catching the coin between two fingers, LED spinning a calm blue, it slid the nickel back into his pocket. The elevator doors opened torturously slow. All the information RK800 had been given was that there was a deviant and its assistance was required. Straightening its tie, RK800 walked through the now open elevator doors, a new mission arrived on its HUD CURRENT MISSION: report to Captain Allen. CAPTAIN ALLEN:DATE OF BIRTH (DoB): December 2nd 1994 AGED: 43HEIGHT: 5’9 WEIGHT: 165 lbsAFFILIATIONS: Detroit Police Department, American SWAT The information blipped into existence quickly, leaving as soon as it appeared. There was no need for it to linger as RK800 had already processed the man’s facial structure. It was designed to be efficient, to never hesitate unlike the human psyche. He would complete his mission. “Negotiator on sight.” One of the masked SWAT members radioed in, RK800 watching them with cold brown eyes. “Repeat, negotiator on sight.” He continued, rushing down the hallway to join the standoff that was happening further along. The beginning hall was a mess of glass and water, a built in aquarium having been shot in the process. A fish flopped pathetically on the floor, heaving for a breath that would never come That would never come without intermission, that is. RK800 knelt down before it, scanning its vitals and any data it could find from the web. DWARF GOURAMITrichogaster Lalius ORIGIN: Ganges Delta, India Exotic. Not uncommon for an upper class family. Tragic, such a beautiful thing to be left to die like this. Its fins a shimmering blue while its body was a bright orange, the still wet scales shining in the dim glow of the floor light. A pity really. Yet RK800 could not find it in itself to move, a strange buzz in its wires telling it to save the fish. To preserve this beauty. It didn’t take second thoughts for RK800 to be gently scooping the flailing creature into his hands. Opening them into the tank the Gourami was swimming happily now, mouth opening into the water. SOFTWARE INSTABILITY /\ Foliage trickled down the wall ahead, the roots of bushy leaves were tucked snugly into the soil of the terrarium-like structure. If times weren’t so dire, RK800 would’ve admired the architecture and design. That is if it could feel admiration, or any other emotion close to the sort. Turning the corner, RK800 was suddenly stopped by a SWAT member escorting a civilian. Caroline Phillips, aged 37, mother to Emma Phillips and Husband to John Phillips was all the information its processors were able to garner before she was throwing herself at it, heaving sobs wracking through her delicate frame. “Oh, oh please please you have to save my little girl!” Caroline exclaimed, looking up at RK800 with wet eyes. She looked so lost, so utterly destroyed. Something deep settled within its wires as it scanned her vitals.|Heart rate: 96 bpm.|Temperature: 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Her face fell as she studied it closer, RK800’s LED spinning once, then twice as her eyes fell to the glowing triangle on its chest. The band which encircled its arm, made of the same luminescent material. Then back to its LED, which remained a steady blue now. “Wait.” She murmured, tearing her hands back as if she’d been burned. “You’re sending an android?” The mother asked, sounding even more broken than before as she turned to the SWAT member. “You can’t-” She’s cut off with a choked hiccup, the enforcer taking her arm and leading her back to the elevator. “Alright Ma’am we need to go.” she was in hysterics now, protesting. “You can’t.” A sharp intake of breath. “You can’t do that. You w-” Another hiccup as the tears begin to flow again. “Why aren’t you sending a real person ?”In the next moment she was gone, taken down the elevator, her shaking screams still echoing in the android's audio processors. It did not understand, it was attempting to save her daughter, why was she so against it? A twisting knot set itself among the thin wires of RK800’s software. Rounding the corner fully, RK800 processed the scene with seamless efficiency. A glass divider was cracked with three bullet holes, the further half nearly fully shattered from the force of impact. To the left a faint sound, quiet enough that no human would be able to hear it from this distance, was playing. A catchy pop tune from what RK800 hypothesized to be playing from headphones. “Why are we wasting time sending an android to negotiate!?” In the room straight ahead, beyond the SWAT members taking position to shoot, was an unmasked man huddled near a computer arguing loudly over his cell phone. “That piece of crap could jump off the rooftop at any second.” A brief pause of silence. “I don’t give a shit! My men are ready to step in, just give the order.” Light from the bedside lamp lights up the room, showcases the cozy headquarters the Captain had holed himself in. A small single bed was placed in the middle of the room, mattress uplifted with what RK800 scanned to be mahogany wood, in dark shine contrasting the darker mood. A divider separated the side room from the main hall, leaving a space which RK800 walked through. Captain Allen was found in the back of the room, pacing near the bed as he hissed a final “ Fuck .” before hanging up the call. Another soldier sat on a foldout stool as they worked on a computer, from what RK800 could see they were analyzing wind speeds and the different angles on the deviant. The captain, pointedly ignoring RK800, who stood there with its hands behind its back, grumbled to himself, “I don’t believe this.” as he moved to loom over the computer soldier's shoulder. “Captain Allen.” RK800 greeted formally, standing straight. “My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” The Captain regarded him with a cool gaze before turning his attention back to the computer screen. “It’s firing at everything that moves, it already shot down two of my men… We could easily get it, but they’re on the edge of the balcony. If it falls… she falls.” Captain Allen explained, lips set in a grim line as he turned back to Connor, as if ensuring it had processed that correctly. “Do you know its name?” Connor asks flatly, processors registering the sound of gunshots in the distance, affirming the Captain’s statement of the deviant firing at everything that moves. “I haven’t got a clue.” Captain Allen snaps, eyes narrowed, “does it matter?”“I need information to determine the best approach.” Connor answers. The Captain had restructured his attention back to the computer screen, where several cameras, the majority aerial view, circled the deviant who just appeared as a small amount of pixels on the device. “Has it experienced emotional shock recently?” The word emotional felt thick on its faux tongue, a sort of discomfort it would never truly understand. Lingering by the computer for one moment longer the Captain pushed up, standing at his full height. Despite being the taller of the two a moment of confusion twisted his wires as the SWAT Captain radiated menace and frustration. “Listen.” He began sharply. “Saving that kid is all that matters.” Captain Allen’s voice began to rise, bitter anger seeping into it. “So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.” And with that he shouldered past Connor, brows set in an angry furrow. |—-------------------------- -||PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 49% -> 48% |Every second counts Connor watched blankly as the Captain stormed off into a different part of the apartment, could read the way his vitals spiked with each bitter word. With the seething man now gone, Connor was free to investigate. An empty lock box sitting open on the floor found its attention. Kneeling down he began to analyze the cut foam. High density polyurethane was cut to match the outline of the missing gun, which from its analysis turned out to be a MS853 Black Hawk. The ammunition case was found to the left of it, a sprinkle of bullets left. Reconstructing timelines was always an odd process to watch. A faceless bipedal shape began knelt down at the gun, the construction’s time slowly reversing as Connor watched the shape return the lock box to its home on the top shelf. |Deviant took the Father’s gun.| Quickly time reversed, the shape disappearing as the reconstruction ended, returning Connor to the harsh reality of the situation. It needed to do something, and do something quick. There was little to no time left and now Connor was feeling the urgency of the situation. A human life was at risk. It was its purpose to save her from the deviant. Standing up abruptly, Connor made its way from the bedroom to the main living space, an open wall of the room leading directly to the balcony, separated by pillars and curtains. It was spacious, a pool built into the open area. Sun chairs were scattered around from the altercations beforehand, placed haphazardly around the floor. A dead man floated in the pool, lifeless as red blood floated around from his body. It wasn’t pretty. Connor pushed the curtain aside, confident in its approach. A cracking BANG shot through the air as a trigger was pulled, blue thirium shooting out of Connor’s shoulder. LED cycling red, it narrowed its eyes. "Shooting at everything that moves." Replays in the bottom right of its vision. Unphased by the minor errors that blipped onto its HUD, Connor pushed on, diverting thirium flow away from the damaged wires. “Stay back!” A shaky voice called over the whipping wind provided by the SWAT helicopter buzzing in the skies above. The PL600 was holding a little girl in its arms, glancing around frantically with a feral snarl set on its face like a cornered animal. Connor regarded it with cold eyes. Compared to the data it was supplied with, the PL600 bore no resemblance to the quaint household android it was supposed to be. Blond hair messed and flailing in the wind, blue eyes wide with fear. The entirety of its body was tense, faux muscles pulled tight like a bow string. Scanning the girl in its arms it confirmed her to be Emma Phillips. Her knees were scrapped, blood smearing her pale skin. RK800 was unable to discern any other injuries on the human girl. Thirium was splattered onto her face, sinking into the pink of her shirt. The PL600 was wounded. Connor stood in the junction between the outside and the apartment, programs and processors running overtime to calculate every situation that could possibly happen and how to counter it. It would not allow this girl to die. “Don’t move any closer or I’ll jump!” The PL600 called out, its firearm pointing at Connor though it’s arm was shaking. Such a human thing to mimic. “No- No! Please, I'm begging you!” Emma cried, squirming in the androids arms, though it was futile with the androids superior strength. In a flash the gun returned to the child's temple, Connor could do nothing but watch as the iron muzzle was ground into the soft flesh. “My name is Connor.” The RK800 offered, inching out of the door, watching the PL600 with careful eyes. Connor doesn’t wish to fathom what would happen if the other android pulled the trigger. Pushing forward with its words, it continued. “What about you? What is your name?” “Daniel…” It sounded hesitant now. The errors in its software made it sound more and more emotional as the conversation continued. “That’s the name they gave me.” Daniel finished bitterly Another step forward and the pistol was whipped to face Connor again. “Stay back!” Daniel snarled defensively. The SWAT helicopter thundered in, circling the apartment momentarily before hovering atop the pool. It sent a wave of water rushing out of its confines, sun chairs flying off the roof as they banged against each other from the sheer force of the winds. |-------------------- ||PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 48% -> 33%|DEVIANT DESTABILIZING Approaching slowly now, Connor had a new angle at the situation. Its head was clear despite the roar of the Helicopters propellers. A dead officer lay to his right, blood seeping out of a wound in their head. Passing the body, Connor continued on. “I’m an android, just like you. I know how you’re feeling-”“What difference does it make if you’re an android?! You’re on their side!” Daniel snarled, voice dripping with contempt as Connor paused his push forwards. The soft tremors in the deviant's hands had turned into violent shaking. Almost human like in the way they quivered. “You can’t understand how I’m feeling..” The PL600 near sobbed, the lights of the helicopter focusing on it like a tragic actor on stage. Standing in front of the deviant now Connor stopped. “There’s no way out Daniel.” It began with an air of finality. “What you’ve done is too serious. The question is whether or not you take another innocent life.” “It’s not up to you!” The PJ600 jeered, jerking the gun to face Connor again. “I’m holding all the cards!” |------------ ||PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 33% -> 29%|DEVIANT DESTABILIZING “If I die,” Daniel hissed, holding Emma in one hand over the great height of the apartment building. Police lights blurred below, blue and red mixing together in a chaotic symphony as sirens blared. Emma screamed, clutching at Daniel’s arm tightly, her small fingernails digging into the synthetic skin. “ She dies .” Only once the deviant had brought the girl back over solid ground was when Connor began to speak again. “You’re defective, Daniel. There’s a problem with your software. We’re going to fix you and everything will be okay.” “I don’t need to be fixed!” Daniel exclaimed. “I’m working perfectly!”|--------- ||PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 29% -> 24%|DEVIANT DESTABILIZING “But my eyes are open now.” It continued, bitterness seeping into its voice. “I will never let anyone humiliate me again.” “Look what you did!” Connor interrupted, motioning to the scene around them. Three dead officers. A dead civilian. A hostage. “You are designed to serve humans, not to kill them!”“What was I designed to be?” Daniel countered. “Their slave? Their toy?” It punctuated this with an angry jab of the gun's muzzle to Emma’s head. The little girl sobbed, thick tears sliding down her face. “I just wanted them to care about me… I just wanted to matter … I just want to be someone …” Daniel paused, growling in irritation as it turned its fiery glare to the helicopter, the still thundering whir of the propellers filling the air. “I can’t stand that noise anymore!” The deviant exclaimed, waving the gun around wildly. “Tell that helicopter to get out of here!” “I don’t think they’d listen to me.” Connor replied, having to raise its voice to be heard over the roaring winds. Face twisting with its displeasure, Daniel convulsed, rage unable to be contained to its body as it banged the gun against its head, once, twice, then fixed its gaze on Connor once more. Returning the gun to the child's temple, it waited for Connor to speak. “Listen,” Connor hissed, feeling something twist in his wires as he was forced to watch his probability of success sink lower and lower with each wrong action. “There are snipers on every roof. Let the hostage go, you have no other choice.” |------- ||PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 24% -> 11%|DEVIANT DESTABILIZING If the RK800 had feelings, it would describe its current state as panicked. Thirium flooded its artificial veins, including the area it had manually cut off as it began to gush blue blood, the liquid seeping into its shirt. Its heart pump hammering in time with the ache in its gut. “I want everyone to leave!” Daniel’s voice interrupted its thought process, high pitched and near panicked. “An- and I want a car! When I’m outside the city I’ll let her go.” No amount of reconstructions or processing can account for emotion. It is erratic and uncontrollable. In the end, it had to discard what its pre-constructions insisted it act on. Keeping a neutral farce, it shook its head slowly. “That’s out of the question. You’re a machine and you have to obey. Now put the gun down and let the hostage go.”|- | |PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 11% -> 00%|DEVIANT DESTABILIZING Connor felt its thirium pump sink, errors and instabilities flashing across its HUD as the deviant began to talk, voice cold and unfeeling, a stark contrast to the fear and anger it once displayed. “I’ve spent my life taking orders.” Daniel spat, blue eyes freezing over as it removed the gun from Emma’s head, the little girl watching in silent fear from her place at Daniel’s side, her legs dangling beneath her. “Now it’s my turn to decide.” It sounded at peace, as if it had come to some conclusion within itself. Daniel fell back. Time slowed as Connor moved to lunge out, Emma screamed as she felt the wind catch the back of her ponytail, the hair whipping into her face. It was too slow. Daniel was in free fall by the time Connor landed on the concrete floor, the only thing it could hear was the thirium pump beating heavily in its chest. In spite of his neutral expression Connor was screaming at itself, berating its programs, social, construction, anything it could. But it was unable to express any of its frustrations. There were no frustrations to be had. It could not feel frustrated. But Daniel so obviously did. SOFTWARE INSTABILITY /\ _ - / \ - _ SEPTEMBER 15th 2038 10:38PMCYBERLIFE TOWER Another busy day in the CyberLife labs. It was normal to be swamped with work, at least that’s the norm for programmer Anna Palmer. She had been working at CyberLife for the last several years now and had crawled her way up the ranks, moving from junior coder to working on the successor of RK800, otherwise known as the Connor model, itself. It was her prized possession. She hated to see it go, it was such a fascinating project to work on. The exact opposite of the Connor model, sturdier frame, anti-deviant back ups, void of any emotion. Anna believed it to be better than RK800 in every way. No name was given to it, a stipulation by recently reported deviant cases. Especially after the failure of RK800 313 248 317-51. A poor little girl died that day, which is why Anna wanted to ensure that with this model those mistakes would never happen again. Anna’s boots clacked against the shining tiles of the hallway as she rushed to her lab, where the first RK900 model lay on a table, ready for its hardware to be implemented. Not being much of a designer herself, Anna had decided that the RK800’s successor would be nearly identical to the Connor model. Despite a couple of cosmetic changes made for the purpose of intimidation. A stronger jaw, taller height, piercing bright blue eyes. It was perfect. Anna would never admit that she enjoyed playing mad scientist, creating her very own Frankenstein’s monster, but there was a sort of pleasure that came with creating such a marvelous feat of technology. Stopping in front of two doors, the programmer entered the right, which would open up into a large mostly empty room. Some seating was placed randomly around the area, side tables sitting in the corners of the room, a single vase of flowers decorated a low coffee table set just across from the single couch that was pushed against the back wall. But the most important thing about this room was the glass pane that divided the two. There she could see every detail of how the engineers worked, welding together wires. The entire “surgery” would take up to and even past 12 hours, and Anna would keep watch for every minute of it, down to the part where they implemented the coding, her coding, into the ai core that would then be carefully lowered into the RK900’s cranium. Of course 12 hours is a long time, but when running on giddy energy it is near impossible to fall asleep. Like a child waking up on Christmas day she rushed into the operating room, still pulling on cheap hospital gloves as she scrambled up to the table. It was perfect, exactly how she’d envisioned it. Faux muscles wrapped around titanium bones, copper veins twisted in and out of the metal as the thirium began to pump through the thin wires. All that was needed now was to fit the chassis to it and sync up the synthetic skin. Cosmetology would deal with the finer details, such as hair texture and skin. But in Anna’s eyes it was the pinnacle of beauty. She watched from inside the room as the plastisteel chassis was fit to the hardware. There were small, microscopic holes that would secrete the fluid where the synthetic skin would flow from once the software was uploaded. It’s chest plate lacked the usual cut that the thirium pump would usually be revealed from. If RK900 were to hunt deviants it would need any advantage it could get. The android stared lifeless up at the surgical light above, the dim glow glinting off the final piece of chassis as it was placed on its face with steady hands. Two cutouts made room for the dome of its eyes to peek through, icy blue iris’ that would be looking around in just a few hours. Anna studied the scientists and engineers, hands moving with steady precision as they gently pressed down to seal the face plate. She watched as it clicked into place with little to no effort, that was how perfect this android would be. CyberLife would test it in the field and there would be flaws to correct, of course. But once they were done with it it would be her masterpiece . Time passed quickly in the operation room, the “surgeons” welding the last few pieces together before they input Anna’s code. She was giddy, over the moon, on top of the world because she was contributing to this great project, no this was her project. She was the one who had suggested it after Connor-01’s failure. Months of non-stop work had gotten the whole team here, and she had been the one to lead them. Finally, the operating team had deemed it time to implement the LED. Carefully, oh so carefully, the lead surgeon lowered the delicate LED circle into a small depression on the androids right temple. The hardware was done Now to upload the software. Anna all but shoved the USB into a surgeon's hands, grinning ear to ear. This was it, this was her moment, her moment in history! This was what would make her name known, perhaps on a level better than Kamski. She could imagine it now, “New RK900 model saves child from hostage situation” “RK900 triumphs over rabid deviant” “RK900 purges deviancy.” While Anna was daydreaming the upload had already begun, the bar slowly filled up. It was her data that was being uploaded into the android, and Anna took as much pride as she could in that fact. Before Anna could blink again, the full hour had gone by. When she looked up the progress bar was just turning from 99 to 100. Shooting out of the chair, Anna got to watch first hand as the synthetic skin flowed over RK900. It moved down from its head, over its chest fanning out to its shoulders then down to its torso, covering every inch. Only once its skin was in place did its LED come to life. Slowly, carefully, cautiously it sat up, looking around the room with a blank face as if awaiting instructions. Ice blue eyes catching on Anna’s face, it fixed her with a patient look.
- _ \ / _ - CYBERLIFE |MODEL: RK900|SERIAL #313 248 317 - 87|BOOTING… |LOADING OS… |SYSTEM INITIALIZATION|CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK |INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK |INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK |MEMORY STATUS... OK|ALL SYSTEMS… OK |READY With a blink of its eyes the world came to light. The room was dull, walls painted a flat gray. Slowly, it sat up, pushing itself up by its elbows. CURRENT MISSION: AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS. Turning its head slowly, it scanned the room from right to left. There was no furniture here, the room entirely sterile. Advanced audio processes picked up the faint sound of breathing to its left, faint huffs of oxygen being inhaled and CO2 being exhaled. Turning its head it was faced with a woman in her mid forties, thick framed glasses sitting on the nose of her bridge, her blonde hair sticking out wildly. ANNA PALMER:|DATE OF BIRTH (DoB): May 25th 1998 |AGED: 40 |HEIGHT: 5’6 |WEIGHT: 134 LBS |AFFILIATIONS: CYBERLIFE LABS A wide grin broke across her face as it stared blankly back, awaiting instructions. “Welcome to the world, RK900.”