#is there a doctor in the house? I think his processor is malfunctioning

[lord-overlips]

"Normally I'd 've sent ya t' prison for constantly drownin' yerself on purpose so I can rescue ya. But I have a feelin' that won't work on ya."

There's a puddle next to him. It looks deep enough to drown in. If he tries very very hard.

"Ahhhh! Help me!" Overlord proceeds to plonk his helm face first in the water. Ew.

[septic-dr-schneep]

MP Fanfiction - Skin Deep (Chapter 4)

Summary: Dr. Iplier has sworn never to use Google’s trigger words against him. The others, however, aren’t quite so understanding, and one of them decides to use Google to his advantage.

Previous: [1] [2] [3]

It wasn’t as if Dark hadn’t expected a day like this to come. Wilford had made it clear on multiple occasions that he was willing—and even enjoyed exploiting Google’s Command Mode when he saw fit. Dark had seen him use Google on multiple occasions—aggravating him with inane questions, making a mockery of him by provoking glitches and malfunctions, inciting conflicts between him and Bing. Did Wilford know that Dark was aware of it? Did it even bother him?

Now that Google was enlisted as one of his allies, however, Dark couldn’t afford to let something like this go unaddressed, not when it could potentially put both he and the Host at a disadvantage.

The wellbeing of the doctor, while hardly of emotional importance, was a cornerstone for the wellbeing of both of his allies. Iplier performed Google’s maintenance and the Host’s optical care. Come to think of it, Dark hadn’t gone to the lab yet to see how much damage had been done to him. Glancing sideways at his companion as they made their way to Wilford’s room, Dark silently took in the mechanical, drone-like rigidity in Google’s shoulders and the vacancy in his eyes.

Amazing, he mused, resisting the urge to laugh under his breath. With two simple words, Google will abandon any bonds he’s formed and follow orders that would cause harm to those he cares about.

Yes…Google cared for the doctor. Despite how carefully the two of them attempted to frame their interactions as nothing but business, Dark knew what they thought of each other, but after this…who knew how Iplier might react to Google’s presence?

When they reached Wilford’s door, Dark paused, resting a hand against the doorframe. It was warm, vibrating faintly under his fingers with the sheer energy of everything that lay within. After taking a deep breath to brace himself, he pushed the door open, his aura flaring to protect his eyes from the caustically bright paint on the walls and the lights tinged pink by their exotic lampshades.

“Oh, lookie here!” Wilford exclaimed, unfolding his legs and sitting up straight on the massive, pillow-strewn bed in the middle of the room. “Here I thought I’d never get to ask you what you thought of my new setup, Darkie! Took me hours to rearrange it…” It didn’t take him long to notice Google standing alongside the oldest Ego. Dark eyes sparking with interest, Will’s grin widened and he swung his legs over the side to approach. “And you found the lost bot! I wondered where he’d gotten to after all that noise from the lab died out. He was supposed to come right back to me, but y’know how sheep are. They need a little steering!”

“That’s precisely what I intend to discuss with you, not the layout of your room,” Dark answered patiently as he slipped inside, guiding Google in to the side of the room before sliding the door shut. “I want to know exactly what you thought you would accomplish with…this.” He gestured indicatively to the bloodstains marring the android’s hands.

“S’not as if it’s a big mystery to crack,” Wilford shrugged cheerfully. “I got bored! Figured it’d be fun to shake things up, bring the house down on ’em!”

“You do realize,” Dark began evenly, weaving his hands behind him as he prowled meticulously back and forth, “that if you weren’t extraordinarily careful with your phrasing, Google could kill him.” Frankly he didn’t want to imagine the kind of fallout that could arise from that; the mere notion of it created a sharpening ache down each vertebra in his spine.

“’Course! It’s not like we’d have to break the news to anyone; we all would’ve felt it if he had, right? No biggie! I’ll bet our pal Markimoo could bring him back with a snap.”

“With great damage to his soul, body and mind, yes, but the fact that he could is beside the point, Wilford. Do you happen to recall that Dr. Iplier is our only physician? Should any of us require medical attention, he is the only one we can turn to!”

At that Wilford tilted his head, his expression hardening as he rose from the edge of his bed and moving to intercept the older Ego with hands on his arms. They were surprisingly light, almost gentle, but Dark shrugged away from them nonetheless, stepping just outside his reach. Wilford kept his hands raised regardless, brows furrowing shrewdly as he looked Dark up and down.

“Ohh…” he drawled, a slight smile quirking his lips before falling away just as quickly. “You couldn’t care less about the doc, could you? It’s our favorite blind mouse you’re worried about! He Saw a little somethin’ and came whining to you, didn’t he?”

“He made me aware of what you’d done!” Dark countered sharply. “And now that you’ve been given your amusement for the day, Google must be released from his Command Mode.”

When any of the other Egos scoffed at him, they were liable to receive a tendril of his aura wrapped around their throat, hurling them across the room for a painful union with the door or a window. Wilford had neither here, so he escaped easily enough with a dismissive tsk and a wave of his hand.

“What’s the point of having him all cranky and uncooperative? He’s a tool, Darkie—isn’t that how you think of him too? It’s not like you actually consider him one of your partners! He’s supposed to be used like this! If you’re worried about the Host, you should blame the doc for his sloppy, dopey healthcare like you usually do! Or try to take care of him yourself. Aw, wouldn’t that’d be cute to see? I could cheer ya on!”

A deep flush of anger stained Dark’s aura red at that, his teeth and hands clenching of their own accord. “Listen to reason.”

“Okay, okay, go ahead. Tell me,” Wilford urged expectantly. “Gimme a reason that’s better than lookin’ at Googly’s hip attachment with Eddie, doin’ a little hip surgery and having fun with it along the way! Host’s not Eddie’s baby; he doesn’t need him for much, right? But having Google like this could actually make for some peace and quiet! And isn’t that what you always want, Dark?”

Batting his eyes hopefully, he looked to Google, sidestepping and wrapping his arms around his chest from behind. The android didn’t resist as he was leaned from the left to the right, back and forth, back and forth, arms swinging limply at his sides like clock pendulums.

“He’s fun to play with!” Wilford singsonged as Dark took a deep breath, lowering his head slightly.

“My reasoning is that while I may long for peace and quiet in this household, you…” Shifting forward, he snatched Google’s arm out of the air during its next swing, stilling him. “You are a being of chaos. You would get bored of him within a month like this, Will; it’s because of his resistance and his anger that seeing him like this is rewarding. You wouldn’t want to spoil your own fun in that manner. You would have to work so much harder for it…” With a fluid pivot, it was easy enough to grab the back of Wilford’s neck with his free hand, drawing his head back so he could look him in the eyes. “And you wouldn’t want to lose my respect by damaging my allies.” It wasn’t the tone of a question.

The silence that fell held for about thirty seconds as Wilford considered. With each passing second, Dark tightened his grip, until Wilford’s following laugh came with a slight hitch of pain.

“S’a good reason,” he admitted, grinning as he shoved Google forward. Google recovered his balance immediately, straightening to stare at the far wall, and Wilford wrangled himself out of Dark’s grip, brushing himself down. Dark tilted his head expectantly. “Okay, okay. Google, you’re free to go! End Command Mode.”

From behind, the only change they could see was the slump in Google’s shoulders, as if a weight had been lifted, but the moment his processors caught up with the motion, he began to shake. Dark was prudent enough to step back before Google turned, but Will wasn’t as fortunate.

Google’s swinging fist as he whirled around was enough to throw him off his feet into the nearby dresser, knocking several trinkets down with the impact. Google’s trembling only strengthened as the metal and glass rang out and Wilford cursed fiercely, cupping his jaw; the stare Google cast on him was filled with such violation and loathing that Dark felt his aura magnetize to it. He reined himself in regardless, keeping his features unmoved as Google glanced to him, eyes narrowed and bloodshot.

“…What did he force me to do?” he snarled.

“Your objectives bank will have that information,” the oldest Ego replied. Before he had even finished speaking, Google’s optics were sputtering blue as he accessed that section of his memory. Dark recognized the precise moment that he realized—It was the moment his eyes widened and he flinched back, bloody hands lifting precariously. Mere seconds later he tore the door open with such force that one of the hinges cracked, racing down the hall.

He didn’t even bother to hide his fear in front of me, Dark noted as he stared after him. Just how deep is their friendship? Deep enough to become a liability?

Still on the floor, Wilford was shifting his jaw back and forth, rubbing just under his ear as bruises began to form. “Well!” he huffed, sounding surprised and…almost pleased at the reaction he’d received. “I’m lookin’ forward to trying that again sometime!”

“When I allow it,” Dark reminded him coolly before drifting away to let him clean up.

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Where the Stars Shine the Brightest: Chapter Five

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Markus/Connor Rating: Mature Word Count: 4759 Alternate: AO3, fanfiction.net Author’s Note: I'm really sorry for the super long wait between Chapter 4 and 5. I'm trying really hard to get back into writing but it's a bit difficult sometimes. I hope you all can understand and enjoy this chapter.

:March 15th, 2039:

“A press conference?” Connor asks as he sits down on the couch. Markus has been coming over everyday since the night he caught Connor outside stargazing. The android keeps using the excuse that he is checking up on him, that he doesn’t like the fact that Connor is alone in the house for long periods of time without Hank. Connor doesn’t argue with him, always allows him inside, and is glad for the company. He likes seeing Markus and having someone around keeps his negative thoughts at bay.

Whatever was about to happen between the two on the couch, before Sumo had so rudely interrupted them, never happened again. Markus no longer sits near him and he avoids eye contact with Connor at all costs. It makes Connor feel lonely, rejected, just as he had predicted. He must have done something to make Markus mad but replaying every scenario doesn’t help him in figuring it out. Connor doesn’t know what he did wrong, what made Markus hate him but at the same time still worry about him. It’s confusing but he can’t—doesn’t feel like he can—ask Markus about it. So he withstands it. Withstands the pain and the loneliness, the vice grip on his Thirium pump that makes him want to scream. He stays silent. He endures.

“Yes.” Markus is sitting in the rocking chair, petting Sumo who is sitting at his legs. “With humans starting to move back to Detroit, I feel it is not only about time we have one but also necessary. We are starting to get more and more backlash from the humans each day.” He’s frowning and Connor wants to reach over and make it go away. “Just the other day we found one of our New Jericho androids beaten to death. He was thrown in a dumpster near by.”

This makes Connor frown as well. “I didn’t hear of this.”

“That’s no surprise.” Sumo whines and Markus starts scratching under the dog’s chin. Sumo’s tail does a rhythmic thump thump against the carpet. “Androids have no rights within the law yet. The police won’t investigate a murder of an android.”

“Maybe if I talk to Captain Fowler-”

“Connor,” Markus interrupts. He still doesn’t look up from Sumo. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t be able to convince him without androids having rights to begin with. That’s why I need to do this press conference.”

“But…” Connor wants to touch him. “Isn’t that dangerous? With all the animosity now?”

Markus shrugs. “It could be but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Then let me be your bodyguard.”

This seems to take Markus by surprise. His hands pause on Sumo, causing the dog to whine loudly until Markus’ hand’s start moving again. “I wouldn’t be able to pay you.”

“I don’t need to be paid, Markus,” Connor insists. “You’re my friend and I want to do this.”

Markus doesn’t say anything for a long time and when the android finally looks up from Sumo, finally makes eye contact with Connor, Connor’s Thirium pump stutters. “Okay, Connor.”

Connor reaches out and grabs Markus’ hand. Markus lets him.

:March 17th, 2039:

It’s early. Humans are gathering around, filing into the hotel’s conference room with notepads and cameras. The hotel manager is helping Markus, North, and Josh set up the podium, the microphone, and the lighting. Markus had a stack of index cards, notes that he doesn’t need written on them. He must be nervous if he’s doubting his internal memory storage.

Connor has a gun. His DPD issued gun despite the law that no androids carry a weapon still in place. It’s sitting in the holster, snug against his side. Connor can feel it. Feel it rub against him every time he moves. He has to resist the urge to touch it, to grab it, to point it at his—

He’s nervous. Connor is nervous. He’s not used to so many cameras, to so many people with their eyes trained on him. He can’t tell if any of the people out in the crowd are androids. He very much doubts it and somehow that makes him even more uneasy. He doesn’t like this plan, can see it going wrong, very wrong, very quickly. He doesn’t understand why Markus wouldn’t have more protection.

“Hey,” Josh. Josh has come up to him, to talk. Connor doesn’t know why. They haven’t interacted much. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?” Connor turns away from the humans, putting them out of his mind for now. His fingers twitch. He wants to touch the gun.

Josh gestures with his chin. “You’re LED is yellow.”

Ah, his LED again. “I’m fine.” It’s a lie. “I just want to keep Markus safe.”

“Do you think something will happen?” Josh glances out into the crowd.

“Do you?” Connor counters.

Josh is frowning, purses his lips, then nods. “I have a bad feeling.”

Connor doesn’t want to admit that he does too. “I won’t let anything happen to Markus.”

Josh nods again. “I know.” He walks away, back to North and Markus where they are almost ready. Connor looks out into the crowd again.

He places his hand on the gun.

*~~~*

It took the hotel manager another half hour before the setup was ready. The humans in the crowd weren’t happy. Markus wasn’t happy. It was supposed to be ready when they had arrived and Markus had tried to stay patient but at some point he had to leave to cool off. Connor had tried to go after him. North went instead.

Once everything was all set, Markus had then talked for an hour, stating their cause, why they wanted—needed—this freedom, and then another hour taking questions that he then proceeded to answer flawlessly. Markus is remarkable. Markus truly is rA9.

Markus is now allowing some of the humans to come up and greet him, ask quick questions, and he gives quick answers back. Connor had advised him against it but Markus is stubborn and had told Connor that it will improve the relationship between androids and humans, that it will look like they are cooperating, friendly, and welcoming.

Connor isn’t sure he agrees. He’s on edge, fidgety, and hyperaware. He wants this to be done soon, he wants to grab Markus, drag him off to a private location, and make sure nothing happens to him. He can’t almost lose another friend. He’s already almost lost Hank. He can’t… he can’t—

A man steps up to Markus, shakes hands with him, and begins to talk. He’s confrontational, testing Markus’ patience, and Markus is winning. He listens to the man in interest, even if the agitation on the android’s face is evident to Connor, but he shows no sign of it that a human would be able to read. Connor is in awe and he wants to grab Markus, hug him, ki—

Connor sees the knife before anyone else does and he’s moving between Markus and the man without thinking. He feels the knife slice into his shoulder but it blocks it from Markus’ Thirium pump. Connor knocks the knife out of the man’s hands, grabs his wrist, and twists, causing the man to yell out in pain and kneel to the ground. Connor pushes down on him until the man is lying on his stomach and Connor reaches for his handcuffs, cuffing the man.

Human security guards run up to him, ones he hadn’t seen before but the manager of the hotel must have set them up around the perimeter. Connor gets off the man, lets the humans deal with him, and his respiratory processors are causing him to breath heavily. He’s sure his LED is red, he feels panicky, shaky. Markus had almost been—

Connor turns, grabs Markus’ hand and drags him away, ignoring North and Josh calling after them. He barely hears Markus tell them that it is okay, to stay there and deal with the man and the police, and Connor just keeps going, practically running out of the room. He finds a secluded, dark room and enters it. It’s clear in this room that he is right about his LED being red by the illumination throughout the room. He’s having another panic attack.

He turns to Markus, ready to check him over for injuries but Markus’ hands are on him first, grabbing onto Connor’s shoulders. “Shit, Connor, you’re bleeding,” he breathes, as if he too can’t catch his own unneeded breath.

Connor opens his mouth to ask Markus if he’s okay but his vocal processors malfunction  and he can’t talk. Instead he grabs Markus, pulls him into a tight hug, and buries his face in Markus’ shoulder, holding him close, protecting him. Markus’ arms wrap around Connor, one hand finding its way into Connor’s hair, fisting it roughly.

Markus is okay.

He’s safe.

He’s safe.

Safe.

And Connor… 

Connor—

Can’t seem to let go.

:March 22nd, 2039:

Connor is afraid of being alone. He doesn’t know what he would do if Hank died. Hank is getting older. Connor isn’t. Hank is a fragile human. Connor isn’t.

Connor helps Hank down into the rocking chair, Hank grimacing in pain. The doctor had deemed him healed enough to go home but had prescribed him some heavy duty pain medication. By the looks of it, Hank is going to need them.

“I’ll get you some water,” Connor says and goes to the kitchen to retrieve a glass. When he returns, Hank is watching him closely. He hands the older man his water and sits down on the floor to give Sumo some attention, feeling uneasy by Hank’s scrutiny.

“So,” Hank starts after he sips his water, setting it down on the coffee table. “Did Markus stop by a lot while I was gone?”

Connor nods. “Yes. He wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Hank is nodding and Connor can see a smirk playing at the older man’s lips. “Anything fun happen between you too?”

Connor shrugs, scratching behind Sumo’s ears. “I wouldn’t call it fun but Markus had a press conference and someone tried to kill him but I stopped it.”

Hank nods again. “Yeah, I saw.” Hank picks up his water. “It was a close call. Good thing you were there.” Silence as Hank drinks. More as Hank stares at him. Connor pointedly keeps his eyes on Sumo. “Anything else fun happen between you two while I was away?”

Hank makes it sound as if he was on vacation and that’s why he was gone. Connor isn’t really sure what he is implying by using the word fun in that way. He looks at Hank, tilting his head in question. “No.”

Hank is examining him and Connor thinks he sees suspicion in his eyes. “Okay.”

It’s all Hank says and Connor is even more confused but allows the subject to be dropped, feeling anxious for some reason. He goes back to focusing on Sumo. The dog wags his tail happily.

*~~~*

“I’m glad to see you are recuperating well, Lieutenant.” Markus has come by to welcome Hank home. Connor called Markus as soon as he had the go ahead to discharge Hank and the android had insisted on coming over. “I assume taking it easy is on the agenda.”

Hank barks a short laugh and then flinches in pain. “It’s like a forced vacation. Except a hell of a lot more painful.”

Markus is smiling at Hank. Connor wants to reach for him. “Hopefully the pain won’t last much longer.”

Hank grunts then changes the subject. “Do either of you know what happened with that android? Colin?”

Connor shakes his head. “Captain Fowler has only given me the bare minimum of details. He said they are still going over the case and questioning him.”

“Do you know what they will do to him?” Markus asks him. He’s sitting on the edge of the coffee table, facing Hank. His profile is towards Connor.

“Most likely they will deactivate him.” Connor leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “As you said, Markus, we don’t have any rights when it comes to laws. They can do whatever they want with him, including deactivation.”

Markus is frowning, staring down at his feet and hands clasped together. “I can’t let that happen.”

Hank scoffs. “And what the fuck do you expect to be able to do? Because Fowler won’t give you the time of day.”

“I’m not sure yet.” Markus stands, paces a couple feet away. “But we deserve fair trials and we certainly don’t deserve an immediate punishment of death. Not even most human murderers are put on death row.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do, Markus,” Hank inputs. “The case is going to go federal since murder is involved.”

“It going federal will probably actually benefit me in trying to sway what happens to Colin.” Markus paces back to them but doesn’t sit back down. “I’ve been dealing with the federal government more than I have local government.”

Hank is looking intensely interested in the subject. “And you want Colin to go to jail instead?”

“I want Colin to have a trial, like humans do. Then, if it comes to it, I want there to be a jail system like humans do for themselves. It’s not fair that we get immediately sentenced to death and yet plenty of human murderers get to live the rest of their lives in jail,” Markus argues.

“So what?” Hank shrugs. “You want, like, an android jail? One specifically for androids? Because you know damn well they won’t mix humans and androids. 

Markus sits. “Yes. If that is what needs to be done in order for humans to feel secure and safe and as if they can trust us.” Markus glances at Connor. “And I also want humans held accountable for murdering androids as well.”

“That’s what spurred your press conference.” Hank states, leaning forward. “If androids are going to have equal rights and be treated like people, then I see nothing wrong with that.”

Markus looks proud, happy. “I’m glad we see eye to eye, Hank.” Markus’ eyes suddenly grow wide, realizing his mistake of using Hank’s first name, cheeks turning a bright blue. Hank is smiling, big and wide. “I…”

Hank bursts out laughing, falling back into the chair. “Fucking androids.”

*~~~*

“Hank?” Connor begins as he helps the older man into bed. Sumo jumps up beside him “Do you like making Markus uncomfortable?”

A snicker escapes Hank’s mouth. “Why do you say that, Kid?”

Connor tucks him in. “Because a lot of the things you say to him seem to make him blush.”

A tsk. “I can’t help it if the android is easily embarrassed.”

“But why do you do it?”

Hank raises an eyebrow, looking at Connor while he contemplates. “You’ll understand later, Kid.” Connor tilts his head in confusion. “Now leave me alone so I can get some beauty rest. Haven’t slept in my own fucking bed in over a week.”

Connor stops at the doorway, looking back at Hank. What if Hank had died? Connor frowns, grabbing the door knob, intending to shut it behind him. “Goodnight, Hank.”

Hank smiles at him, warm. It makes Connor’s Thirium pump ache with the fear of loss. “Goodnight, Connor.”

:March 24th, 2039:

Markus asked Connor to accompany him to the Detroit Police Department. Connor had refused at first but he is finding it harder and harder to resist Markus. Those eyes that don’t match look at him a certain way that makes Connor melt, speeding up his Thirium pump. He has to remember to do a self diagnosis later to make sure nothing is remotely wrong with him.

“I don’t like this, Markus,” Connor warns as they make their way up to the building.

“You used to never back down from a mission, right?” Markus asks and for some reason it hurts Connor. He doesn’t mean to flinch at the question, to deflate and withdraw. Makrus notices. “Sorry.” Markus stops, faces him. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Connor says nothing, not looking at the android. “Connor.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Connor proceeds to head into the precinct and straight to Fowler’s office. He knocks before entering. “Captain Fowler, Markus is here wishing to speak to you.”

He sees Fowler roll his eyes. “Fine. Make it quick. I’ve got work to do.”

Markus enters the office, brushing against Connor even though there had been plenty of space to go around him. Their fingers pass each other briefly and Connor swears he feels Markus grab at them before letting go so no one notices. “I would like to talk to you about getting a lawyer for the android you are keeping here. Colin.”

Fowler seems surprised. “A lawyer?”

“Yes,” Markus says. “If no human lawyer is willing to do it, then there are plenty of androids at New Jericho that were previously program to do such a job that will be happy to represent Colin.”

Fowler is looking at the two of them as if stunned. “I’m sorry but Colin has already been sent away for deactivation.” Connor sees Markus’ jaw clench, the hurt and frustration in his eyes evident. But the android says nothing, allowing Fowler to talk. “It wasn’t my decision. I got orders from way up in the food chain.”

Markus is angry. “Thank you, Captain.” He turns away without another word and Connor follows behind silently. It’s not until they are outside and a few blocks away that Markus explodes. “Shit!” He punches a wall. “I was too damn slow.”

“Markus…”

“I should have been able to protect him, Connor.” Markus is leaning against the wall, hands into tight fists and eyes closed. “I should have…”

“Markus,” Connor says again and places a hand on Markus’ shoulder. Markus sags, pressing his forehead against the brick of the building. Connor doesn’t know how to comfort the other android. “I’m sorry, Markus.”

It’s all he can really say.

*~~~*

They find themselves sitting in a park on a bench, side by side. They press into each other, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’s a warm day and there are a lot of humans walking about. It’s interesting to watch and Connor wonders if they think he and Markus are a human and android sitting together.

“I never got a chance to thank you for what you did at the press conference,” Markus says, breaking the peaceful quiet. Markus has finally calmed down from the earlier news but Connor can tell it still bothers him. “You put your life at risk for me. Thank you.”

Connor watches the people. “I was there as your bodyguard, Markus, I did my job, completed the mission.” He hopes Markus doesn’t mention what happened after the guy tried to attack him. “I also got a new arm out of it.”

Markus is smiling but it looks sad. “A brand new arm without any scars on it.” His smile disappears. “Are you going to put some on it?” Connor doesn’t answer, looking out into the park. “Connor, I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Markus,” Connor informs him.

Markus huffs, looks up to the sky and cups his hands together. “I can’t help it.”

“Why?” Connor looks at him. “I’m an ex-deviant hunter that made those deviants’ lives hell. I made your life hell and almost killed you. Twice. I don’t understand.”

Markus is smiling again. “Because I care about you, Connor.”

Why would Markus care about an expendable android like himself? “Why do you care about me so much? I’m no one. I’m replaceable.”

“Connor.” Markus grabs his hand, holds it tightly. “You could never be replaceable.” Markus’ eyebrows are furrowed in determination. “You’re mine and Hank’s friend and we don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

Connor pulls his hand out of Markus’ grasp and Markus frowns. “You can’t help every android, Markus. You said that yourself.”

“No, I can’t and I have to keep that in mind more often, earlier being case in point. But…” He looks away briefly, hesitating, then back to Connor. “If I had to choose only one android to ever help, I would always choose you, Connor.”

Connor’s Thirium pump hurts again. 

:March 30th, 2039:

Hank wanted to get out of the house after being cooked up in it for too long so Connor offered to go on a walk with him. He made Hank promise they wouldn’t go far, as Hank is still healing, and Connor holds Sumo’s leash. Markus hasn’t been by since the last time he had visited but he has been calling Connor at least every other day, checking up on him. Connor keeps this information from Hank, afraid that the man will make fun of him for enjoying the android’s calls.

“When I was a kid,” Hank starts, hands shoved into his sweatshirt pockets and hunched over. “You were able to tell Spring was almost here by the birds singing in the morning. They used to fly South for the Winter and then come back up North around Spring time.”  Hank looks around. Connor notes how tired he looks. “Now you don’t have that at all. No bird songs, nothing. We’re lucky we still even have real cats and dogs.” Sumo barks, as if knowing Hank is talking about his species. “A lot of things change, Connor.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around when birds were,” Connor comments. They turn and head across the street to a nearby park. “They sound delightful.”

Hank barks a laugh. “Fuck, Kid, when I was young you were only a distant dream. Movies were made about androids, both good and bad.” They walk up to a hot dog stand and Hank orders two of them. “I never would have guessed androids would become a reality in my lifetime.” He sighs, taking his hot dogs and leading the way to a bench where they both sit. “The other things, however, those became much more predictable to happen around my young adult age. Global warming, unemployment, we humans all saw those things coming and we did jack shit about it. Then we created you without a care in the world, without even thinking about the consequences.”

��Consequences as in us becoming so sentient we would take over?” Connor questions.

Hank nods. “That’s what a lot of the movies are about and with androids taking all the jobs…” Hank looks at him from the corner of his eyes. “I’m not saying I’m against androids having freedom and equal rights. You know I’m all for it. I’m just saying it was predictable as soon as you all became to be.” Hank shifts, turning slightly to face Connor. “How long do you think it will take before an android dictator comes into being?”

Connor’s eyebrows are furrowed. He’s not sure if he should be intrigued or offended. “Not any longer than it took for any human dictator.”

“And that, Connor, is what I’m afraid of.” Hank takes a bite of his hot dog and gives the second one to Sumo who gobbles it up in one bite. Hank is chewing thoughtfully, watching Connor who avoids eye contact. He swallows and bumps Connor’s shoulder playfully. “If it’s any consolation, though, I’m glad you came into my life, Connor.”

The corners of Connor’s lips pull up in a small smile. Hank must see because the next thing Connor knows, Hank is wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close, hugging him roughly and laughing.

*~~~*

They end up at a small clothes store, Hank claiming he wants to buy himself a new shirt and pants. He had said after getting shot, he deserved it. Connor doesn’t argue with him and so he tags along after dropping Sumo off back home. Hank already has two shirts in his hands, a seventy percent off long sleeve button up with a retro floral chain print pattern and a half off long sleeve button up with a totem print. The older man is browsing the shirts, flipping through them and giving Connor looks.

“You know, Connor, with the weather starting to get warmer, you’re going to have to start wearing t-shirts,” Hank says, pulling a t-shirt out and holding it up to Connor. “I wonder what size you are.”

Connor tilts his head, tugging the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “Why would I need to?”

Hank gives him a bewildered look. “It gets hot in Summer, you should know that. Wait, you were made in the Fall, right?” Connor nods. “You’ve never experienced Summer here then.” He puts the t-shirt back and takes another one off the rack. “You can’t be wearing sweatshirts in a hundred degree weather, Connor. You’ll overheat your,” Hank waves absently to Connor, “software or whatever.” He then gives Connor a curious look. “Do you have a CPU?”

“I… what?” Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “Why are you asking?”

“Eh,” Hank waves again. “Never mind. Here, go try this on, I want to see if it’s the right size.”

Connor doesn’t take the shirt even as Hank presses it against his chest, pulling at the sweatshirt sleeves more. “I don’t want a t-shirt.”

Hank scowls in annoyance. “Connor, just try on the fucking shirt.”

“Hank, I don’t want to!” Connor snaps, not meaning too.

Hank looks like he is taken aback, shocked by Connor’s outburst. “Okay.” Hank replaces the shirt on the rack and moves on, walking over to the pants. The silence between them becomes awkward and Connor can feel the suspicious air Hank is giving off. Hank eyes him. “Are you okay, Kid?”

Connor absentmindedly strokes down the leg of a pair of jeans. “I’m fine.”

“Did you get into another argument with Markus?” Hank presses, holding a pair of pants up to himself.

“No,” Connor finally admits. “Markus and I are fine. He’s been checking up on me every few days.”

“Uh huh,” Hank puts the pants back. “So nothing’s wrong?”

“Correct.” Connor touches another pair of jeans, wandering around the rack of clothes. He thinks about the scars, how he’s already added one to his new arm. How mad Hank would be if he found out. How disappointed Markus would be.

Hank gives up on the pants and starts walking away, towards the check out line. “You can tell me if there is something wrong.”

“You’ve told me that already.” Connor follows obediently.

Hank shrugs. “I know. I just want to make sure you remember.”

“I don’t often forget things, Hank,” Connor says, running his hands over the clothes they pass. So many different textures. He wonders what they all are made of. “I have a very large memory storage.”

“Oh yeah?” Hank sounds amused, huffing a chuckle. “How large?”

Connor smiles, knowing the reaction he’s probably going to get. “One hundred thousand terabytes.”

Hank stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide. He turns to Connor. “Is that even possible?”

Connor is smirking, a new feeling of amusement building in his chest. “For androids, yes.”

“Shit.” Hank stares at him in shock for a few more seconds before whistling and turning around to keep heading towards the check out. “Fucking androids, man.”

Connor is still smiling as he follows, amused by Hank’s reaction, until something catches his eyes. He stops and grabs it, taking it off the rack. It’s a white button up long sleeve shirt with paint splatter in all different colors. Red, yellow, green, blue, purple, and orange adorn the top of the shirt and the bottom of it. Perfect for a painter. Perfect for Markus.

Hank strides up to him, looking at the shirt. “Do you like that one?” Connor nods and Hank has his own smile on his face now. “For you?”

“For Markus.” Hank’s smile grows. “I think it suits him.”

The older man shrugs. “Why don’t you buy it for him?”

Connor is startled and he feels his cheeks heating up. “Buy it for him?”

“Yeah, why not?” Hank grabs the shirt so Connor doesn’t have a chance to put it back. “I bet he would like it, especially coming from you.”

“Why… why from me?” Connor asks, following Hank more slowly now. They get into the checkout line.

Hank shrugs again. His smile is wide. “No reason.”

“I… I don’t think he’ll like getting something from me as much as you’re making it out to be, Hank.”

Hank chuckles. “Oh trust me, Connor, he will.”

Connor is confused for the rest of the day but decides to let it go.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Thank you for reading!

The shirts Hank is buying: Retro Floral Chain Print Button Up Shirt Casual Totem Print Long Sleeve Shirt

The shirt Connor is buying Markus: Turndown Collar Colorful Splatter Paint Pattern Long Sleeve Shirt

[bartok-not-bartalk]

Writing prompt #25

The robot was showing marvelous potential.  So far it had saved about a dozen pets from burning houses, retrieved two skiers from an avalanche mishap, and had helped to bring in a rather pesky department store thief.  Great potential indeed.  The only troublesome thing about the machine was that it wouldn’t stop kidnapping its mechanic. The detective in charge of the mechine’s team sighed he disliked all forms of AI. Brauge looked up at the large oak tree in front of him, and the hulking robot perched near the top, or rather as close to the top as its processors told it the tree could support its weight.  Sitting squished between the machine’s body and one of its jointed arms sat a boy, as the detective could tell by the skinny legs poking out from underneath the arm and the muttering that was audible even from this distance. Poor Isaac. The detective thought, He must be afraid of heights. Brauge cleared his throat: “Errr…” He paused, unsure how to best adress this situation, “Tin can?” he yelled up, “Could  you give us young Mr. Isaac back please?  It’s getting dark…”— The machine cut him off with a clearly irritated click and a series of beeps sounding not dissimilar to a fire alarm put in a blender.  It fixed its lens on him and shifted the boy possessively behind it.  The detective caught a glimpse of Isaac clinging desperately to the robot’s giant arm before it positioned itself so that Isaac was completely out of sight. Brauge internally cursed.  He wasn’t payed enough to deal with the tin can on a regular basis, and the last time it had determined something was a threat to Isaac, it had taken several hours to get it out of the cave it had holed up in after completing a rescue mission. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere, you worthless rust bucket, he still has to run your daily diagnostic!” he yelled up, rather more in spite than in actual hope that the machine would see reason and come down.  As expected, the machine only clicked at him, not budging until a different voice spoke up, trembling slightly and sounding a bit frazzled. “Siv, there’s no danger, really, I’m all right.  You know the detective, he’s not a threat,” Isaac paused as the robot clicked, and if robots could sound unconvinced, this one did, “It’s okay,” he soothed, obviously trying to avoid looking down. “You can take me down now?” He finished, the end of his order curving up as if he were begging the robot rather than ordering it. The detective lit his cigarette. Damn it, Isaac, why did you have to name it? He rolled his eyes. The damn tin can already had an extremely strong attachment to the boy that even his own mother couldn't explain, which said a lot since she’d designed and programmed the damn thing in the first place.   The detective watched in relative awe as Isaac slowly coaxed the machine down from the tree, though it refused to let go of him, instead, Isaac resigned himself to being carried.  The detective noted with amusement that the fifteen-year old was dwarfed by the robot’s arms, looking rather like a toddler as he sat on one of the machine’s arms, two others snaking in front of him to make sure he didn’t fall. It clicked at him distrustfully all the way back to the transport van, where it was forced to release Isaac so he could ride shotgun back to the station. Isaac was quiet for a while on the ride back. “Why do you think Siv does that?” he asked finally, turning to the detective. “I dunno.” He answered truthfully, not even wanting to imagine what was going on in that metal beast’s brain… or processors… whatever it was. “I wonder if it’s a factor of the survival software that malfunctioned.” Isaac mused aloud, “It would make sense, since I’m the only one who can repair Siv, it’s protective of me.” The detective shrugged.  Isaac and his mother were the only ones who even had an inkling of the potential of the machine.  Isaac’s mother, the esteemed programmer Dr. Nylo, had designed and programmed the electronic brain that rested in the tin can’s bowels and her son Isaac had built its body from scratch, and knew the ins and outs of it better than anyone else.  The detective had even heard rumors that the software was a prototype version of the ROVER intelligence that had been loosed in Europe, though he wasn’t one to believe rumors.  But if that was the case… The detective shook his head, clearing his thoughts.   “You and your mother are probably the only ones who could know for sure, kid.” He said finally, “Speaking of, has the good doctor Nylo any theories on that?” “Not that she’s told me,” Isaac said, eyebrows drawn together, “But I have a feeling she knows.” The detective laughed, startling Isaac. “What’s so funny, Agent Brauge?” “Nothing,” Brauge said, giving the kid a reassuring smile, “I’m sure she’s just stressed with the next OS she’s working on.” “If you say so,” Isaac sighed. “It’s still curious that Siv is so attuned to danger when I’m involved.” Detective Brauge said nothing.  There was only one other machine that did what Siv had started to do, and if the tin can had anything in common with ROVER, then “kidnapping” Isaac was only the tip of the iceberg. Oh Dr. Nylo, I hope you know what you’ve gotten your son into, he thought darkly.

[seaglassandemroidery-blog]

Universal

“First, there was nothing. Then suddenly, somehow, a singular consciousness found itself existing in the void. For eons it merely existed, doing so in alternating states of contemplation and catharsis. It could not comprehend the cause of its own existence, but realized that the presence of thought was indicative of some sort of reality. After countless ages of thinking in nothing but abstractions-- with no concept of time, matter, or energy, much less language-- it finally conjured in its mind the concept of matter; a simple, single subatomic particle. This final realization of something else existing-- beside itself, that is-- brought with it a flood of new concepts; the entity suddenly comprehended that this particle could potentially change over time-- Time! Another dimension of existence. And in order for such a change to occur, there must be some sort of driving force, some energy. The entity realized that from this tiny building block so much more could be created. So, from the straining pressure of millennium attempting to grasp any form of non-abstract conception, there very suddenly burst forth a universe of possibility within the mind of this entity. Of course, for a being whose entire existence had consisted of solidarity in a void, simply imagining such a universe was the essential equivalent of creating a whole new one. Of course, that would mean that this entity was the universe, and every particle in it  would be nothing more than an extension of it. And so from the unexplainable existence of a singular entity and its comprehension of the concepts of time, matter, and energy, there burst forth from the void an entire universe. It would have been sudden, violent, and uncontrolled, originating from a single infinitesimally tiny point in time and space. If this were to be true, it would be explanatory of the creation of the universe, and would provide philosophical context for the big bang theory. It would help us to understand and address some of the most fundamental laws that govern our universe. It would essentially disprove the existence of a benevolent deity.”

The priest shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced stealthily at the half-exposed watchface at his sleeve. This man was meant to speak for another fifteen minutes, but in the first fifteen had already bounded past the reasonable limits of tolerance. As if on cue, he felt the hot breath of the preacher to his immediate right.

“We need to get him the hell out of here,” he muttered. His breath stank of sauerkraut, perhaps the remnant of a meal but considering that it was eleven in the morning, this was an unpleasant possibility.

“I know,” the priest responded. He tugged at his black sleeve, covering the remainder of the watch face. He had had to do this once before, the time that a gay man stood and bore testimony that God would allow him to live with his husband in paradise.

“So that makes your faith, my dear brothers and sisters, both the most beautiful and foolish things that you possess. With that you can exalt yourself to greater heights in this world, and perhaps in the next. If we are all but extensions of this cosmic being, and it allows you to feel zeal such as you do, it must be for the best that you continue in this path. Everything is in order; good and sin alike. There is no heaven or hell, only consciousness. Because you so believe in this church, it is with all diligence that you must abide by it, and realize that nothing that happens here or out in the world is out of the plan. His plan, if you feel to ascribe identity to the cosmos. ”

“That’s quite enough,” hissed the priest in his ear. His voice was low and was not registered by the jet-black microphone in front of the speaker. Instinctively, his hand shot out and grasped the bare wrist of the speaker, who wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Wrap it up please. We’re almost out of time,” he amended. There was no need to come across as hostile to this man. After all, he was a respectable speaker, and to make a scene was to draw attention to the church in way that made him look obsoletely opposed to modernity. The last thing that he needed now was to be seen as an old coot; especially after the church had announced that it would not be joining others in the trend of allowing robot baptisms.

“Father O’Neal has just let me know that we are running a bit short of time; thank you, Father!” He turned and beamed, white teeth sparkling under the buzzing fluorescent lights. His eyes did not contain that smile. “I would like to finish my remarks by reminding each of you that you are not without meaning. In a controlled and determinative universe, you are a carefully molded cog, so act like it and you will be filled with peace. We are God, and we cannot fail. Thank you.”

He bowed his head curtly, and the light flashed off of his bald dome into Father O’Neal’s eyes. The congregation looked captivated still, even after the spell had been broken. One of the sisters in the second pue wiped her eyes, smiling. God, they were all smiling, O’Neal thought. Turning and sauntering back to his seat, the man’s departure spurred a flurry of movement as the choir stood to sing. Today, it was How Great Thou Art. O’Neal forced a smile onto his face as he glanced over the regular preacher and on down the row to catch the gaze of his guest speaker. His eyes smiled now and looked triumphant.

“I am sick of these new-age theologists!” O’Neal dropped his leather bound Bible onto a worn dining table. The room was empty, but for the table and six wooden chairs, which were despairingly devoid. The warm aroma of chicken with a rich overtone of garlic and bitter tinges of rosemary and thyme drifted in the place that should have been filled with people. A blond-haired head poked around the corner that lead to the kitchen. The curls of her hair blended in with the sandy beige wallpaper behind her.

“Oh dear, did you have another one?” inquired the head. The rest of the body started to appear; first neck, then shoulders and torso until she peeked almost all the way around into the dining room. A timer beeped abrasively behind her. ���Stop timer.” The clamor ceased.

“This one was sneaky; he created a whole fake background just so I could let him in to spread his… his insanity! I knew some of the Fathers and Mothers on his resume personally, and never thought they would have let such a fanatic into their houses of worship, but I guess with universalism being all the rage, some them have fallen to it.” The disdain was almost palpable, and far more bitter than the expired spices roasting in the oven.

“What did you do about him?” She asked, stepping foot onto the threadbare carpet. Her movements were fluid, but her left elbow was jerking and twitching.

“I politely asked him to finish his speech so that the flock wouldn’t see me angry and then threw him out when they had left. He kept babbling on and on about ‘spreading the news’ and ‘liberating the captive.’ He talked about faith in his speech but only because he believes in, how did he say it? ‘Acclimating the beholden?’” He paused, seeing the jerking arm. “Oh Jesus Marie, it’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?” He strode towards her and reached out to her oscillating joint.

“Don’t, David. There’s an exposed wire and I don’t want you to be hurt too.” She reached and stopped his hand with her own. “It was doing okay until I recharged in the afternoon; the sun was superbly bright and I filled to almost full capacity. I haven’t done that since the malfunction, and I think it made it worse.” She released him, untwining her finger from his.

“Damn it, I can’t afford to fix you right now.” He threw his hands into the air, accidentally smacking her uplifted arm. She held it for a second, then drew it back, looking hurt. “Oh, and now your response time is altered too?” His voice grew louder as he spoke. Marie seemed to shrink in her silicon skin. “I’m sorry,” he appealed, softer now. “I’m not angry with you, I’ve just had the worst day. This imposter came in and stole away half of my flock; they came to me after asking if he could speak again! And the collection plate had a couple of crumpled fives because everyone spent the whole time listening to a man who told them to give to the universe and to themselves instead of to the church. And coming home and seeing that you’re more broken than before… Well, with schmucks like this, I don’t have much left over to  buy you a new arm and sensory processor.”

“Not that you would when there’s more cigars and bourbon to be bought,” Marie muttered, almost inaudibly. “I really need to take the bird out of the oven; it’s going to be dry.” She had barely turned at the waist when O’Neal’s hand grasped her good arm, much differently than it has clutched the speaker’s wrist that morning. It was rougher now, nails digging into her arm.

“What did you just say?” His voice was dangerously quiet now, settling into the stained carpet and roughed table. His tongue tasted metallic.

“Look David, how do you think it feels for me, being here with you? My repairs are nothing more than an inconvenience to you; I'll bet if my arm was flesh instead of metal, you would take me to a doctor, wouldn't you? My God, you were on the forefront of banning robotic baptism in the Catholic church! I know you think of me the same way you think of screwdrivers and pliers.” She jerked her arm free and locked it at her side.

“That’s not true, Marie! And I’ve explained it to you a thousand times, the baptism thing is because androids are manmade and only God-made things are meant to be baptized…”

“But you don’t ordain or baptize dogs, or bees, or…. Or shrubs, do you?” retorted Marie. The smell of the chicken was beginning to grow more and more alarmingly aromatic and sharp.

“Because they’re not intelligent, they’re not people.”

“And I’m not a person? I think just like one, I talk just like one. If it weren’t for the fact that you bought me yourself you would have never known the difference. What, am I not good enough to be saved by God? Am I not worth a second thought at least, or a chance? You sure don’t think like that when you want me at night, like an animal? Didn’t you promise celibacy when you put on that damn collar? Oh wait, it doesn’t count when you screw me, because I’m just a soulless hunk of metal and plastic!” Her voice grew louder, as it ought to when a person is upset. As she continued, it grew more grating and metallic. O’Neal’s mouth gaped open, much like a cod that is very surprised to find a hook in its mouth.

David started to speak, but she cut him off “Oh, stop making those noises out of your disgusting wet mouth, you hypocrite.” The air was heavy, and now smelled of burning meat. “I’m through,” she exclaimed, and marched past him, heading for the closed door. Her arm jerked more aggressively as she moved. “Oh,” she continued. “You might want to take that chicken out. It’s nice and smoky now; it should go perfectly with your evening cigar.”

O’Neal stood in shock. In the past few months, he had been disagreeing more and more with Marie. He kept mean I bf to reset her personality to be a bit less feisty, but had postponed it because the quips made the relationship feel real. He had never suspected that she, no it, would actually leave. It was a robot, after all. It was legally his property.

When the members of his flock found out, they all but stopped coming and the greater part of them turned their backs on the Catholic church altogether, opting for universalist flocks that congregated to discuss philosophy and the advancement of the sciences. The O’Neal v. White case took the better part of a year to settle after working its way up from the lower courts. He tried to apply for a different position within the church, but was asked to return his cassock. While the church was willing to overlook his unorthodox marriage to an android in and of itself, it was the publicity of the incident combined with his resistance to doctrinal changes that ultimately ended his career.The implications of keeping him would have shaken the church all the way to Rome. At the age of forty-three, David O’Neal was stripped of his priesthood as he simultaneously became the first man on earth to be served divorce papers by his own android.