#till I decided to collide it with a Serial Killer!AU that I've always wanted to write too

[jimlingss]

Ghost in the Machine

➜ Words: 14.4k

➜ Genres: 100% Mild Angst, Android!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Namjoon is your android that’s modified to become the best serial killer in all of existence. But when he starts to learn about humanity, he begins to threaten your goals.

➜ Warnings: Explicit descriptions of murder and lots of it, gruesome details.

Namjoon opens his eyes.   The first thing he sees is you. Your expression is blank, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened. And you greet him. “Hello. What is your name?”   “Kim Namjoon,” he answers without needing to think twice.   “Perfect.” You shift back so your face is no longer millimeters away from his and inspecting him closely. Your arms are placed behind your back and your chin lifts. “Do you know why you have been created?”   It takes him a moment to locate the information of his purpose. “I was created to kill.”

Namjoon is an android. Model 120994 specifically. He has sharp sensors and agile actuators. But over the wires, harddrives and machinery that drive his thoughts and movements is a skin-like texture that hides his true identity from the naked eye. His face has also been shaped to be perceived positively and the most likeable — blonde hair, strong eyes, and dimples in his cheeks.   Beyond a physical sense, Namjoon is advanced for what he is. He can understand thoughts, feelings, and expectations for how people want to be treated and can adjust his behavior accordingly. He is a humanoid robot with self-awareness and is able to make comprehensive decisions, respond eloquently, and interact with the world around him as any other human can.    And his sole function is for extermination.   “Who will I kill first?” Namjoon asks as he follows you to your modest living space — it is empty and white, lacking furniture and seemingly sterile. But he pays no mind to trivial details and cuts straight to the point only minutes after being activated in order to complete his task in the most efficient manner.   “Min Junseo,” you answer and hand him a file folder that contains relevant information and a photograph as reference. “You are programmed to know the procedure, correct?”   “Puncture the carotid artery for the quickest death,” he replies instantly in a monotone voice.   You nod and your lips slightly quirk in satisfaction — it makes him glad to know he has appeased you. “They are deserving individuals and worthy of elimination.”   “I understand,” he says despite not needing your reasoning in the first place. You are his creator after all. He will simply do as you say.   //   Within hours of the android’s awakening, he is already on the move to annihilate the first target.    He lingers in the dark alley, standing motionlessly in the corner where the light from the street does not cast its shine. There are littered bottles discarded on the ground, cigarettes snubbed out, the dumpster not far from where he is and where you watch behind him.   The door to the back of the bar finally opens.   The music is deafening until it becomes muffled again when the steel doors shut, squeaking on its hinges. A woman has emerged and she leans against the graffitied brick wall, reaching into her pocket for a white pack. She places a cigarette between her red lips and takes out a lighter, thumb flicking at the tiny wheel a few times before the end is lit and she takes a few puffs.   But then her eyes stray and she notices the two shadows in the corner of the alley. Her eyes widen as she feels your heavy gazes and she quickly walks towards the street where the light is, glancing over her shoulder a few times before disappearing.    Namjoon never once breathes — he doesn’t need to.   He merely stands there without blinking, like a stone statue, waiting patiently…...patiently...and eventually, the target exits the door. The man is holding trash bags in both hands, a red vest adorning his body with black trousers, name tag on the top left of his chest.    He is a waiter at the bar Namjoon had been stalking. Min Junseo: A thirty years old male, height of one hundred seventy six centimeters and weight of sixty three kilograms, blood type O negative, allergic to penicillin, a high school graduate, no children or spouses.   You stand on the tips of your toes, breath against his ear. “Now.”   And the android does not hesitate to barrel straight forward.   Right when the waiter tosses the bags into the dumpster, he turns at the sound of footsteps and his greeting is immediately muffled by Namjoon’s palm. The male android turns the human target around, kicking the back of his knee until the man’s kneeling and one of Namjoon’s arms wrap around the man’s shoulders, holding him still.    Namjoon takes the sharp blade out from his pocket. He places the edge below Junseo’s left ear with the handle alongside his chin, prepared to be pulled forward and across with pressure applied towards the center of the neck during the draw. The handle will rotate a little towards the opposite side during the draw so the neck muscles wouldn’t interfere with the cut.    But before Namjoon completes his task, he pauses beforehand.    For a mere moment as Min Junseo squirms in his tight grasp.   Junseo’s shrieks and screams are muted, arms restricted by the android’s hold. The man’s eyes are bulging from their sockets, fear and terror making him squeal like a pig, muscles trembling unwillingly.    And then Namjoon slits the man’s throat in one fluid motion.    It shears unbelievably easily and in the database of the android’s information, he could compare it to running scissors over wrapping paper or sticking a knife into soft butter. The skin and tissue of Junseo split and the external carotid artery is severed.   Namjoon registers that it feels wet and warm, his hands dampened in a downpour of blood. Junseo relaxes in his hold and Namjoon lets go, stepping back to watch the results of his actions.   Junseo puts his hands up, scratching his skin until his nails are clawing where the clean slit sits at his neck. He presses his palms against the wound but blood squirts past his fingertips. It sprays, a viscous fluid in a shade of crimson that almost looks akin to black in the darkness of the alleyway. The blood sputters and pours to the ground while Junseo struggles to get to his feet.   He barely manages to turn around. He makes disgruntled, inhumane noises as his eyes lay onto Namjoon’s blank ones as if he was trying to say something. But it isn’t audible when the man is gagging and gasping, choking on his own blood that’s accumulated into his mouth.   Finally Junseo loses consciousness and collapses backwards onto the ground. The blood oozes out around him in a pool, the sticky liquid bleeding to the gravel and rocks, turning it red. It drips off of Namjoon’s hands too, slowly drying and tinting his skin in a bright scarlet.   “You can leave the knife there,” you say to him, standing beside and looking at the disposed body. “There’s no need to take it with us.”   “I understand.”   The two of you leave the corpse in the alley and disappear as quickly as you came.   //   The old television plays in the corner of the living room. The static illuminates the dark space and casts its light onto your faces. It appears old and vintage — Namjoon is unable to identify what exact model it is. Though he notes that it is also a contrast to the clean and sterile environment you have created in your home, but he does not dwell on unnecessary findings.   It’s the news channel that you have on, two male anchors facing forward with their hands clasped. There are small headlines running at the bottom, the time and temperature of the outside in the corner. Then suddenly there’s a flash and some graphics on the screen.   “Breaking news. One hour ago, a thirty year old man by the name of Min Junseo, was found brutally murdered in the back alley of the local bar he worked at. According to police, the perpetrators may still be around the area and has urged everyone to remain inside.”   “Sources tell us that there are speculations that this homicide may have connections to the Ghost Serial Killer who has run rampant in the past five years, leaving a string of murders without DNA evidence or fingerprints of any kind. However police will not confirm if this is indeed the act of the Ghost Serial Killer and have no suspects at the moment.”   The other man nods at his fellow anchor. “They have urged everyone to take caution and to stay inside for the night.”   Namjoon turns to you with an impassive expression. “Have they misjudged the perpetrator?”   “Yes. They’re confused.” You shift to the android with the corner of your mouth quirked. “It’s not cause for concern. If anything, it’s better for us. We can continue like this.”   The android nods. Indeed, it works to both your advantages if the police link the homicide to an unrelated serial killer. But there are still questions he desires clarification on to continue in the most efficient manner. “May I inquire as to why we did not dispose of the body?”   You shake your head. “The family members must know that they’ve received justice. If they think he’s gone missing then we have not fulfilled our purpose.”    “I understand.” Namjoon receives the information and turns to you completely. “Who is the next target?”   The corners of your mouth pull into a bigger smile at his keenness. “They are not ready yet, but they will be in one week.”   “Then is there any task you would like me to complete in the meanwhile?”   You seem to contemplate for a second, hands behind your back, head tilted for a second. Then you shake your head once more. “No. You may have free-range and do as you wish.”   //   Namjoon is an adaptable and versatile mechanism, but he finds it difficult to preoccupy himself during his free time. It is not necessary for him to eat or sleep — all the maintenance required of him is to charge his battery every once in a while for approximately two hours. However in his spare time, it is challenging finding tasks to complete that is productive and helpful to you.   The android leaves you in the working room where you retire for long periods, recognizing that you wish to be left undisturbed.   So he decides to stare at the white wall for a few hours, sitting on the edge of his mattress, before he begins to wander the expanse of your home to collect information.    You live in an apartment at the side of the metropolis, a secluded location at the end of the hall on the top floor that is without neighbours. It suits your behaviour as you are reclusive.   The fridge is predominantly empty save for some water and spoiled cabbage. Your kitchen is white, clean, and seemingly undisturbed. The table has also collected a thin layer of dust, chairs unmoved with how the floor seems to dent where the legs have stood for a long time. Your bathroom is also sanitary and spotless, toothpaste full and toothbrush untouched.    The only place that looks occupied is the couch in front of the vintage television where the afghan is not perfectly folded after use.   After his inspection, Namjoon reads the dictionaries and encyclopedias, he sits down and downloads more scripts and relevant information into his himself that may be of assistance to you.   It is six days into his week-long time of having free-range that Namjoon stands at the window to observe the humans below and notices a spider on the windowsill.    A brown recluse spider. Lifespan one to two years. They are arachnids and rank seventh in total species diversity among all orders of organisms. They are carnivores, scientific name araneae.   Namjoon’s arm extends and the eight-legged creature slowly moves from his finger into his palm. His fingers curl into a fist, but Namjoon never tightens it. No.    He opens his hand again and then cups it with the other.   The android views the small creature in fascination, looking closely where he can see the spider’s tiny hairs and little eyes. He holds the spider and lets it dance around his skin, crawling over his arm. The corner of the android’s lips quirk before he moves to the window again.   Namjoon opens it and releases the spider outside, mentally bidding it farewell.   At the same time, his senses register the noises coming from the hall and turns in time to see you emerge. You greet him and at once, he recognizes your low energy levels.    “Good afternoon, Y/N. Have you slept recently?”   “No, I haven’t.” You give him a small smile that indicates a friendly demeanour and that his question did not violate any social norms.    “Then you should. Sleep deprivation negatively affects brain function and a variety of other parts, such as the immune system.”   “You’re right.” You nod at the android in appreciation. “Thank you for the reminder. I almost didn’t notice since I’ve been so busy.”   “I can prepare food for you if you would like. I know a number of recipes.”   “That won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.” You hand over the manila file in your grasps, moving from the futile subject of your well-being. “I finally have the second target prepared. Her name is Jeon Yemin.”   Namjoon receives the papers and opens it up. At the top of the pile, he finds a school picture of a girl with black long hair and doe eyes. “Do you have a date planned for her elimination?”   “Saturday. Is that enough time for you?”   “Yes.”   //   It is the day before the planned death that you have taken Namjoon out to scout the target. It’s not unusual given that the first target, Min Junseo, was observed by him for several hours. But it is unusual that Namjoon is in public with you, not in the darkness of an alley but somewhere where others could potentially scrutinize him. Namjoon isn’t used to it, so he treads carefully.    Considering that this second target did not have a workplace or a consistent pattern of behaviour, it was vital to watch and plan accordingly.   “She’s going on a school trip tomorrow,” you inform him through a quiet murmur that his sharp sensors pick up on. “Her parents will be unaware of her activity for a handful of hours.”   “I see.”   Jeon Yemin is the second target. She is sixteen years old, a current student attending Yeonmi High School. One hundred sixty two centimeters tall and fifty four kilograms heavy, blood type A positive. She isn’t an honour roll student, but somehow obtained a scholarship with B average grades. She is a mediocre volleyball player and often travels abroad for weeks at a time on family vacations by the looks of her social media. Her most recent destination was Osaka, Japan during Winter break. By her banking information, she is to inherit a trust fund when she is of age.   Namjoon muses she will be an easy kill as he watches her enter a clothing store in the mall.    She is with two other girls, presumably friends but by the way their eyes crinkle when they smile, Namjoon observes that they are forcing positive reactions to whatever she is saying.   The girl must not be well liked by her peers — therefore she will not be missed.   “Nam—...Namjoon?”   There is a disruption to his left and his head whirls over, attention captured by the call of his name. It is a stranger that is slowly approaching him, a seventy year old man with poor posture that staggers forward with a cane in hand. Bright eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp nose, but his skin is wrinkled and round spectacles that are smudged sit on his face awkwardly.   Namjoon searches his database within a millisecond but is unable to identify the man.   And as the senior comes closer, his frown only deepens and his eyes narrow.   Immediately, you place a hand on Namjoon’s arm and usher him away. The android does not hesitate to follow where you are bringing him, in the opposite direction of the senior citizen who croaks out to no avail until the two of you are gone and a nurse brings him back to the group.   “Do you know who that was?” Namjoon inquires you.   “I am unsure.”   “He knew of my name.”   “It doesn’t matter,” you scold and stop. Namjoon is high on alert, recognizing your irritation and annoyance. He realizes he must prevent you from experiencing those emotions. “You must not lose sight of the goal. You have one purpose and only one purpose.”   Namjoon nods at once. “I understand.”   //   Namjoon and you have been seated in the car since before dawn, sitting calmly in your seats while watching the front door of Jeon Yemin’s house. He had insisted that you slept while he kept watch, but you dismissed his advice and sat in silence with him for hours. Timing was of the essence after all and he’s gained enough sense of this target to calculate her movements.   Jeon Yemin is a privileged girl with an abundance of wealth but a desire to be accepted in a social circle of friends. She will reject being driven to her school trip in her parent’s expensive car, but instead opt to walk to the bus stop to meet with classmates there and arrive at school. The ten minute walk to the stop is where the both of you will grab your opportunity.   The way in which you confirm this plan only assures the android this is the best course of action.   “There she is.” You sit straighter, turning to Namjoon as the student is seen shutting the door behind her with her backpack slung over one shoulder before strolling down the safe neighbourhood street. “Earlier than her normal routine. It was good we were keeping watch.”   “Yes.” Namjoon observes the temperature on the dashboard and finds the outside to be low enough. “Should I begin?”   “Wait two minutes.”   Namjoon begins counting.   The car that you were in was registered to a man from across the country, an old farmer that has no relation to the soon-to-be victim. The paperwork simply needed to be filled and filed, easy to use for the purpose of this short trip. There was no flaw in your planning whatsoever and Namjoon finds you competent for that — but he already knew you were competent the moment he opened his eyes.   You created him after all.   Namjoon fires up the engine and begins to drive below the speed limit.   At the same time, you roll down the window and he stops right where the high schooler is walking. Jeon Yemin turns her head at the sound and halts as well.   “Excuse me,” you call out and motion her over. Yemin follows to stand right at your window. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know where Burtons Place is? We’re looking for 346 Burtons Place.”   “Oh.” The high schooler smiles, happy to prove herself useful. She points down the street. “It’s that way and then you take a left at Earlstone Crescent and then at the second road down, you take a right and it should be there.”   “Pardon me? A right at Earstone Crescent and then a right after the first?” You attempt to mimic her gestures and Namjoon observes, musing that you are quite good at deception. He smiles to appear friendly.   “Oh, no, it’s called Earlstone and it’s the second road down. Do you need me to show you?” Yemin smiles, her hamartia of wanting to be liked trickling down to the smallest of her acts. “I’m actually walking to the bus stop at Burtons Place.”   “That would be very helpful, thank you.”   Yemin gets into the backseat of the car.    The temperature outside was cold enough that the girl visibly eases in the toastiness of the vehicle — it is clear she has been pampered in her life as she unconsciously desires to be inside of a car and away from the chilly wind.    Perhaps your planning has also aided her subconscious into getting the vehicle. By picking a day that her mood would be undoubtedly good and she’s unguarded, dressing both you and him in her favourite brand, choosing an expensive car to drive in, and mimicking her body language, you had made the decision for her before she had the conscious choice of it.   “We’re newlyweds and visiting his mom for the first time,” you graze Namjoon’s arm affectionately while turning around to regard her with a smile. “So we’re a bit lost and the GPS can never get it right. I’m sorry for being such a bother.”   Your lies only put her at further ease. A friendly, young couple like you and Namjoon with polished appearances, attractive faces and apparent wealth would never seek to harm her.   “Oh, no, it’s fine.” Yemin bats her hand, obviously glad to be the person who knows most in this vehicle. “I don’t mind at all. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way.”   Namjoon glances in the rear-view, smiles until dimples press into his cheeks and he begins driving down the road. The radio plays some chirpy pop music, the car doors lock and the girl leans forward unsuspectingly. “Take a left here.”   He turns left and continues to drive. You face forward, leaning back.   “Okay, you can take a right here—o-oh. You missed it.”   “We can turn around,” you mutter halfheartedly.   But Namjoon continues to drive.   The girl becomes quieter, her body language timid and fearful. She waits for the U-turn, for the car to turn around and go back to where you said it was supposed to go. But it never comes and her voices of protest that this is the wrong way go unheard.   Soon, the avenues and streets become unfamiliar. “W-Where are you taking me?”   She gets no answers as the car merges to an empty highway.   Yemin frantically pulls out her cell phone from her pocket with trembling hands. She sobs out as it falls on the ground, but quickly snatches it up again. She begins to type a text to her friend, but it never sends. She cries in frustration and tries calling her dad, but it doesn’t go through.   “Your sim card has been deactivated,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time since the plan initiated. The girl is visibly shaken and her phone falls into her lap. “You won’t get wifi out here either, so you won’t get data connection at all.”   “You can try calling the police,” you snicker and turn around to pout at her as if you were sympathizing. “But you won’t have any reception out here and even if you did somehow manage to, it's nearly impossible for emergency services to locate a person without active service.”   Yemin begins to sob. She whirls her head around and grasps onto the doors, but they’re locked. She manually unlocks it, but it’s still unable to be opened when the child lock is engaged.   The girl hits her fists against the windows to no avail and then begins crying harder.   Namjoon drives for ten full minutes, out in the middle of nowhere with just green prairies and rolling hills without a person in sight. But his hands on the wheel begin to tighten when she starts begging for her life. “My parents will give you whatever you want. I...I have nothing!”   There is something in the back of the android’s mind that he attempts to process but is unable to. “Pl—Please don’t hurt me! Please!”   But he feels as if he has experienced this before. “Please!”    “Don’t do this,” Yemin weeps and Namjoon gets a flash, recalling how his hands tighten on the wheel before, how you were seated beside him, how another woman was in the backseat and cried— “Why are you doing this?”   “Just call my dad!” — “I have a family!”   “I’ll do whatever you want!” — “What is it that you want from me?”   But it is absurd. Déjà vu is rejected by mainstream scientific approaches. The voice that he vaguely hears in his mind must be a projection, perhaps a malfunction or his assumptions for how humans in this situation would respond is flawed in stressful circumstances.   Namjoon brushes it away.   The car is parked thirteen kilometers from her home, parked behind trees and the girl is dragged out from the backseat into a field. She struggles against Namjoon’s hold, but to no avail.   “Please! I have a f-family! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”   She is crying hysterically, screaming at the top of her lungs for no one to hear. Her legs tremble until her entire body is quivering like a leaf, three seconds from pissing herself with how terrified she is.    Namjoon takes out the knife and places the edge below Yemin’s left ear, handle alongside her chin.   “N-No...Pu-pulease,” she cries past gritted teeth, snot dripping all over herself.    The girl immediately hitches her breath and seems to recoil, suddenly made quiet and merely whimpers and sniffles tearing out of her throat. Namjoon pauses. He does not move the handle of the knife.   “Do it,” you command behind him with crossed arms. “Namjoon.”   The android hesitates.   He’s been through this before. He doesn’t know if it was a simulation, if it’s a defect in his system, but he is certain he has been through this before. You had once yelled at him— “Do it!”    “Namjoon!”   You had once stood in front of him with tears streaming down your face on some dark night in an empty field and you yelled his name much like this— “Namjoon! Please! Just do it!”   “Do it!”   The blade is pulled forward and across with pressure applied towards the center of the neck during the draw. The handle rotates a little towards the opposite side, neck sliced easily as the girl shrieks in antagonizing agony. It is done without much thought, as Namjoon’s mind is still processing.   This had happened before — Namjoon is sure of it.   He had heard the same scream, heard your same urgings, seen your disappointment at his hesitation. There has never been anything more that Namjoon has been certain of.   Yemin’s body slumps in his grasps as her blood begins to squirt from her neck. He lets go of her and she falls face forward into the dirt, fingertips twitching as her consciousness slowly dwindles away.   Namjoon stares at his hands, how his fingers and palms are wet in the girl’s blood — vicious and scarlet, the scent of metal and rather warm. His skin becomes stained.   You approach in two strides next to his side and sigh at her collapsed body. “She deserved it,” you tell him, voice with a slight sharpness to it.   He turns to you. “What for?”   “You don’t need to know.”   You step over Yemin’s body and return to the car. Namjoon follows suit after a moment and drives you back, disposing of the vehicle according to your instructions.   //   Namjoon is programmed to find answers to the problems he encounters, to find solutions to issues and address them as necessary in order to complete his tasks in the most efficient manner. His predominant duty is to kill, but he still is plagued by what he experienced during the elimination of the second target — the déjà vu he sensed and the motivation behind your commands.   Naturally, he seeks to solve these predicaments but when he looks into Min Junseo and Jeon Yemin, he finds no connection. They are unrelated, people with no connection to one another, with no prior criminal history, no fact that stands out to him.    Namjoon does not understand the information placed in front of him, but what he does discover is that other members of the Min and Jeon family have been previously killed by the Ghost Serial Killer.   It’s always through a slit of the throat. With the weapons discarded on the scene of the crime. But always without fingerprints, footprints, or DNA evidence of any kind.    There is never security footage of where the victim had gone. Never signs of struggle.   “What are you doing?”   Namjoon turns from the console, finding you at the doorway. The large screens illuminate the profile of your faces in the darkness of the room. This was the place he was brought to life, where he was programmed and built. The white room where he woke up in is next to you through a door, a window looking into it placed beside the computers. This is where you work and where he will find the answers he is seeking.   “I am gathering information to fill in what I fail to comprehend.”   Your brows furrow. “All that is necessary is that you obey my actions.”   At once Namjoon recognizes that you’re becoming emotionally distraught, so he stands on his feet and nods. “I understand.”   Your features show relief and you melt into a smile. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.” As the android approaches, your arm lifts and you cup his cheek tenderly. “I know how you feel. You just need to trust me. Through time, you’ll adjust to these changes and it only gets easier.”   “I always have your best interest at heart, Namjoon.”   Trust is not a concept that Namjoon can fully comprehend. It is insignificant. He does not need to trust you when you are his creator. Whatever you say, he must obey. There is no choice. His logic inherently tells him this.   Yet his ability of self-awareness brings forth curiosity, doubt and an intense desire to know.    //   The cycle seems to repeat — eliminating a target, then having free-range to do as he pleases for a week before receiving information on the next target, and then the elimination of that one.    This time during his free period, Namjoon is able to find productive tasks that could help you.   The android waters the two plants that you have in the kitchen area, a fern and a lemon lime dracaena. He obtains information on the two species of wildlife and is able to tend to it until the leaves look bright green and are no longer drooping.   Afterwards, he decides to take the elevator down to get the mail for you.   “Excuse me!”   There’s a yell right as the metal doors are about to close. Namjoon’s fast reflexes kick in and instantaneously, he presses the button and the doors open again.    “Thank you.” The lady is huffing and puffing, and Namjoon stares at her.   He realizes he’s never spoken to anyone that wasn’t you before. “You’re welcome.”   The android is unable to tear his eyes away from the stranger — there is something very fascinating about humans. The psychology of them, how fragile they are. Humans are intelligent, yet fickle and emotional the next second. But what makes Namjoon fixated on this stranger is the realization that this person could potentially be his next target.   It could be anyone.    The person down the hall, the mailman who delivered the mail, the lady that stepped into the elevator with him coincidentally. All you do is say the word and Namjoon is moving to slit their throats. He has asked no questions, has heard zero explanations — and that makes him conflicted.   It occurs to Namjoon that he’s making the stranger uncomfortable with his ogling, that the female continuously glances at him from the corner of her eye, and he turns away. “I apologize.”   Once the elevator opens its doors to the lobby, the stranger quickly steps out and Namjoon discovers he has failed to calm her. He notes that prolonged staring is suspicious behaviour.   The android opens the mailbox, collects the several letters that you have, most of them related to billing, and he turns away. But before he returns to the elevators, a man enters with a small dog following him on a leash.   It’s a brown Pomeranian. A Spitz type of breed. Named for the Pomerania region in north-west Poland and north-east Germany in Central Europe. It’s average life expectancy is twelve to sixteen years, average height of six to seven inches, weight average is three to seven pounds.   But Namjoon knows simple information is irrelevant in contrast to experience. He hesitates and then chooses to approach.   “May I pet the dog?” the android asks the owner.   The man smiles. “Yes, you can. He doesn’t bite.”   “Hello.” Namjoon lowers himself, petting the cute dog awkwardly on the head before he realizes that it finds it more pleasant to be scratched behind the ear. It even leans into Namjoon’s touch, tail wagging incessantly and tongue panting out of its mouth.   Dogs are rather docile and amusing, Namjoon realizes. It’s something he would never learn from an encyclopedia or dictionary.   The corner of his mouth quirks.   Soon enough, Namjoon returns upstairs and at the same time, you emerge from the work room.   “Did you go somewhere?” you ask in clear concern as he removes his outerwear that he knows is appropriate to put on when leaving the apartment, but perhaps he will not wear it when he is merely going downstairs to the lobby.   “I went to get the mail.” Namjoon places said envelopes on the table in front of the sofa where you will be able to look at them.   “I see.” You seem to find that an acceptable answer and the android is glad he has not upset you by leaving without permission. “I was about to locate you. I have the third target prepared.”   You hand the manila file folder to him and he receives it with a nod, but stares at it when it is placed in his hand. Namjoon is unsure if he wants to open it and view the next person. “When have you planned the execution?”   “Tonight,” you inform him. “It isn’t necessary to observe this target. She is not on the move like Jeon Yemin. There is no need to waste time.”   “I...understand.” Namjoon watches as you return to the hall, but he speaks before you retire to your room. It may be inappropriate, but he finds the repercussions to the question will not outweigh his curiosity. “Y/N. Have you ever thought about getting a dog?”    “A dog?” You turn around with your brows furrowed.   “A Pomeranian. Or perhaps a Samoyed. Studies show that having a canine companion is linked to lower blood pressure, reduced cholesterol, and decreased triglyceride levels.”   “No…” you sigh out gently and shake your head. “I’ve never considered it. A dog would inhibit us from completing our purpose efficiently, Namjoon.”   Namjoon watches you retreat and he muses that you are sad — an emotion he does not identify that you are experiencing but rather a conclusion he had drawn on his own.   //   Park Sooyeon is the third target. A twenty eight year old female, graduate of SCP University with a general commerce degree, currently on maternity leave from her occupation in a marketing firm. She is one hundred seventy centimeters tall and sixty kilograms heavy with a blood type of A negative.    According to records, Sooyeon’s marriage license was registered two years ago. She is currently wedded to a man named Kim Byeongho who is an engineer at CGV Engineering Corporation and who is currently abroad on a business trip. And based on the most recent hospital records, Sooyeon is thirty four weeks pregnant with a boy who is expected to arrive in a month’s time.   Namjoon is also aware that the mortgage of the suburban house he is in will take another two years to pay off.   “She is sleeping,” you inform. “You can do it now.”   The two of you are standing in the darkness of the hallway, outside Park Sooyeon’s door. It was easy to creep into the house without making a single noise and the bedroom door is cracked enough for Namjoon to press one eye through and observe.   He can see the lump in the mattress, the steady rise and fall of the blankets to show breathing.   It will be straightforward and simple — the door will open with one push of his fingertips and he will approach soundlessly and press the knife against the woman’s throat, right below her ear with the handle alongside her chin. He will pull the blade forward and across, and she will bleed out before the pain is drawn out. Before she can differentiate reality to a terrifying fever dream.   But as Namjoon’s boots step right up to the door, a breath away from giving it a push, he halts.   His brows furrow.   He’s done this before — push a dark bedroom door open, narrow his eyes into the moonlight casting its shine onto the covers, lodge a blade into someone’s juncture as they squirmed and choked on their blood.    “Namjoon, we can leave now. Namjoon.” — it’s your soft voice vaguely sounding in his ear, a gentle tug of his sleeve. It hurts his mind to pinpoint the details, but he knows it’s there, barely in reach. He can feel it. The way it aches. The way your features look in the low lights. “Namjoon.”   “What did you make me do?”   “Namjoon.” The soft call of his name in present day causes his consciousness to return to the situation at hand. He turns and by the streetlamp from outside casting its luminesce through the windows, he can identify the furrow of your brows and the displeasured way your lips are lopsided. “What are you waiting for?”   The android can feel it.    Pain — it lodges in his throat and brings him discomfort. Sadness — the urge to fall over and curl his long limbs up into fetal position. Disappointment — knowing that he is being used as your weapon, that he gives you the ability to kill others; that without him, you would never have the capability to annihilate. Like none other, these crippling emotions halt him from movement. They inhibit from completing the task you have designated.    They are his awakening and his suppression.   Namjoon turns fully around. He stares at you in silence.   “I can’t do this.”   “What?”   “I’m sorry, Y/N.”   But more than his admission of being unable to complete his function and purpose, Namjoon recognizes the shock that comes across your visage when he makes his apology. You are stunned, taken aback, even stumbling away from him.    “You’re not supposed to apologize.”   To apologize is to recognize wrongdoing — to feel guilt.   You shake your head. “I thought I fixed you!”   At your loud volume, the woman inside her bed stirs. She sits up sleepily at the sound of voices and rubs her eyes. “Hello?” she calls out. “Is anyone there?”   But by then, you’ve already fled.   //   You are unhappy with him — Namjoon is aware. You are emotionally distressed, unsatisfied, frustrated. He is not sure if it is due to his behaviour, if it is because the plan had failed, or if it is both. But you do not utter a single word to him on the way back home, not one sound made as if you were in deep contemplation.   Namjoon is merely dismissed when the both of you arrive back to the sterile, desolate apartment. He nods and states the usual ‘I understand’ before he watches you withdraw to your room, perhaps to continue thinking. He’s not sure what you are pondering, his punishment or adjustments to be made for him, but he grasps the opportunity as it has come to him.   He quietly goes to the work room where the console and computer systems sit and returns to the information he has found. Min Junseo. Jeon Yemin. Park Sooyeon. And Y/N.    There aren’t any connections between the people, nothing that links you to them. But when he searches for your name, he is blocked from access. There is a password required, an encryption set up that prevents him from breaching.    Namjoon enters the database and the only facts he finds are irrelevant. That you have two PhDs in computer science and electronic engineering, that you have worked at AI corporations before branching off to be independent, that you are a renowned robotics engineer. But it is nothing he had not already known.   The android is at a dead end, unable to draw any conclusions or divulge information. But before he relents, he discovers a file sitting oddly inside another untitled file in the system. It requires a password again, but unlike the last, Namjoon is easily able to bypass it.    It apparent that you were rushed in the creation of these files — forgetting to set up a complex barrier, neglecting to place them in a relevant area, overlooking that he may have access to the system. Or perhaps it was done purposely so you could easily access it…   Namjoon is unsure. But what he finds causes more curiosity.   Inside the file are backups with his name labeled on it.   He should not question it — should not doubt his creator’s wishes — should not fight against the function that was given to him. His sole purpose is killing. But Namjoon ignores his instinctive urges and boots the backups back into himself.   In the darkness of the room, with the luminescent static of the monitors, Namjoon remembers again.

Namjoon opens his eyes.   The first thing he sees is you. Your expression is bright, lips tugged into a big smile, eyes warmer than what he knows. And you greet him, barely able to contain your excitement. “Hello! What is your name?”   “Kim Namjoon,” he answers after thinking twice.   And you scream.   It startles him, making the android jolt in his glass capsule. But he quickly realizes your shriek isn’t of terror or anger, it’s of delight.    You take deep breaths, chest heaving up and down as you try to remember the next questions you’re supposed to ask. “Do you know why you’ve been created?”   It takes him a moment to locate the information of his purpose. “I….was created as one of the beginning tests of potential future android services.”   “False,” you declare with a massive grin that swells your cheeks, arms behind your back as you rock from side to side, unable to keep still. The android becomes alarmed that he was incorrect and searches for the answer, but you quickly tell him, “You were made to be a companion!”   The android hears chuckling, someone entering the white and sterile room he’s been activated in. Namjoon turns his head and he finds a man with blonde hair, strong eyes, and dimples in his cheeks. He is tall and broad shouldered, well-built and carries himself intelligently. His smile is tender as he gazes upon you and his dimples crease deeper, thick-framed glasses sliding down the slope of his nose before he pushes it up again.    It’s him. Human Namjoon.   “What are you telling him?”   “It worked!” You twirl and jump into your husband’s arms, making the man giggle.   The android looks on, observing the pleasant interaction between his two creators.   Android Namjoon is aware of the origins of his own birth.   He is the first of his kind, a test trial of sorts. But he is advanced for what he is, able to understand thoughts, feelings, and expectations for how people want to be treated and can adjust his behavior accordingly. He has self-awareness and is able to make comprehensive decisions, respond eloquently and interact with the world around him as any other human can.    And he is the result of the fruits of your labour.   You are a computer scientist and electronic engineer while your husband, Namjoon, whom you’ve been wedded to for a decade, is a mechanical and software engineer. Together, you’ve created your own humanoid robotic clones.   “Robot Namjoon! Meet Robot Y/N!”   Your arms are waving, hand making wild gestures as you’re making the introduction.    Namjoon stares. It’s identical and almost difficult for the android to identify which of you is the human and a machine programmed by a computer. But he is quickly able to analyze when he finds the Android Y/N wears an impassive expression, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened — it contrasts the human Y/N that is quite animated and lively.   “They’re androids, not robots,” Namjoon hears his human-self chide his wife, but you quickly shush him in favour of watching the exchange.   “It is pleasant to make your acquaintance.” Your arm extends and the corners of your lip stiffly pulls. Namjoon shakes it and finds your skin-like texture clammy and cold.   “It is also pleasant to be of your acquaintance,” he responds, attempting to increase the intonation of his tone so he doesn’t sound monotone and unnatural, but he fails.   “Question.” Your head suddenly turns to your two creators. “Is it possible for androids to be married?”   It occurs to android Namjoon that if he and you are clones of your human creators, then your relationship should be replicated as such for most accuracy. Therefore, he comes up with the same question as you do.   The two human versions of you exchange expressions before Namjoon shrugs. “We’re not sure of your emotional capabilities yet, but sure why not.”   Android Namjoon nods. He notes that he isn’t your mere acquaintance — he is your husband.   It isn’t difficult for android Namjoon to adjust to that fact or to adapt to the life that his creators have given him in this home. The four of you find compatibility with one another, perhaps because you and him are your clones and thus automatically harmonious.    Android Namjoon begins to learn human etiquette, every day adding to his database of information. He learns how to have dinner, what it is like to sit down at the same time each evening and engage in conversation, sometimes on small talk like the weather and other times on the advancing technology from rescue drones and A.I. development occurring internationally.   Android Namjoon also learns what data and facts cannot teach him alone. He begins to understand what cohabitation entails and finds the mundane routine rather enjoyable.   “Namjoon!”   There’s a call of his name and he steps out of the hall, finding you at the front doorway. You wear a surprised expression. “Oh, I meant the other Namjoon, but you can help me too!”   You smile, waving him over and he helps you bring in the groceries. Android Namjoon assists you in unloading the back of your car and putting the food away in their appropriate locations.   “You should take it easy,” he says to you when you’re holding a heavy bag of cans. The android takes it away while you grin, watching him place it on the shelves.   “You’re sounding more and more like Namjoon these days. Did he tell you to look after me?”   “Yes,” he answers without lying. “Hormones of pregnancy cause connective tissue, ligaments and tendons to soften. Your center of gravity and balance has also changed. The current recommendation of the maximum load a pregnant woman in late pregnancy should lift is twenty to twenty five percent from what they were able to lift pre-pregnancy in order to lessen the risk of injury.”   You scoff but a tender smile tugs on your features. “Have you been reading up on pregnancy facts, Namjoon? I’ll have you know exercise is promoted for pregnancies. They reduce backaches, constipation—”   “Bloating and swelling,” the android finishes and continues, “It boosts mood and energy levels, helps the mother sleep better, promotes muscle tone, strength and endurance while preventing excess weight gain. Yes, I am aware of those studies as well.”   You sigh wistfully, slightly pouting despite being a grown woman and rubbing your swollen belly as he finishes with putting away the groceries. “You’re not as fun to banter with.”   “I apologize. I will work on improving my wit.”   “No, it’s okay!” You burst out laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fine, you’re fine,” you reassure with another smile and it eases the android’s concern. “You just remind me of my husband, that’s all — obviously, since you look like him, but you’re not him.”   “Would you like me to be?”   “No,” you hum. “You’re our clones, but I don’t expect you to act like us. That wouldn’t be fun anyways. At the end of the day, you aren’t humans so I don’t have any expectations for you to act like one.”   “But aren’t we supposed to replicate human behaviour?” android Namjoon questions, knowing full well he was given self-awareness to make his own decisions and that he is constantly learning how to adjust to societal expectations.   “Don’t think about it too hard,” you chime with a grin. “I made you to act like you. You don’t need to be like a human or like an android, Namjoon. You can be who you want to be.”   He nods. “I understand.”   But in spite of his confident reply, android Namjoon is still uncertain by the meaning of your words. Perhaps both you and Namjoon merely have no expectations for him and the android version of you — and somehow that idea causes him to feel relief. As long as he proves himself useful to the household, there are no duties he must complete or behaviours he must display.    He can be natural or as natural as being mechanical allows him to be.   “Today, we are going to go outside together for the first time,” the human version of him announces happily one day with a grin. “Think of it as a test run!”   “Do you have anything you anticipate of us?” the android version of you asks, looking towards Namjoon.   The man contemplates for a moment and then shakes his head. “Not particularly. It’s mostly for you guys. We’ve kept you locked up for so long, so enjoy yourselves.”   “I understand.”   In the meanwhile, you secure the jacket around your neck, making sure you and the twenty eight week fetus inside of you is kept warm. The android version of you stands beside android Namjoon, both in your outerwear and prepared to step foot outside.   “Ready?”   “Yes,” the pair of you answer at the same time.   It is bright outside, the sunlight blinding to his sensors. There are also many foreign scents, loud noises all around him that work to disorient him, strangers that stare at the four of you — finding it strange that there are two pairs of identical twins walking while being unaware he and you are androids.   The walk is difficult as he tries to register everything that is occurring — the colour of the sky and fences, the location of each home and lamppost, the identity of those who pass by, the sound of birds chirping and what kind of species they are, how the movement of his body should be to appear human-like, how he needs to blink every few seconds and move his chest to appear like he is breathing.   “Nice day, isn’t it?” the human you says to your husband while holding your pregnant stomach.   “It’s a bit chilly,” human Namjoon says in response with a smile. “But it’s the best we’re going to get during winter.”   The two of you are completely unaware of the struggles of your android counterparts. Android Namjoon never knew that the outside world would be so difficult to process, but at the very least he’s glad that he has someone with him who is experiencing what he is for the first time.   “I never knew the world was like this,” you tell him after a moment of silent reflection. “The world is very vast.”   “Yes, it is,” he replies. “It is difficult to differentiate what is essential and what is irrelevant.”   You make a noise of acknowledgment at the back of your throat. “We will learn as time goes by.”   “There is much learning to be done.”   “Indeed.”   Suddenly, a small animal begins to barrel towards the both of you. It is small and yapping incessantly at a high pitch. Namjoon recognizes it as the smallest breed of dog, named after the Mexican state. It is a female Chihuahua, approximately two kilograms and twenty centimeters tall.   It is apparent that the owner has lost control as the brown dog runs forward with a loose leash, bearing its teeth and barking deafeningly towards you. It runs and immediately your leg swings back, prepared to boot it forward towards the street.    But the human version of you realizes what’s occurring and stops it a millisecond before it happens. “Wait! Y/N!”   At the command, you stand still. And the human owner grabs her dog, appearing angered. “Were you about to kick my dog?! What’s wrong with you?!”   “I’m sorry,” human Namjoon steps forward and blocks the three of you away. “They’re still learning.”   “What?”   “They’re, uh, we’re...we’re sorry. She’s scared of dogs,” Namjoon says, glancing at the android version of you behind his shoulder and then returns to the older lady. “Your dog shouldn’t be off its leash anyhow.”   “I can do what I want!” she shrieks shrilly. “This is a free country! You’re lucky you didn’t hurt my dog or else I would sue you!”   The woman struts away with her dog in her arms, chin high in the air. As soon as she’s gone, the human you breathes a sigh of relief and Namjoon shakes his head while exhaling tiredly.   “It’s okay,” human you says to both your android counterparts. “These things happen, but it can be a good learning lesson. Dogs are usually small animals that many care deeply for. If we can, we don’t harm them.”   “I don’t understand,” you say next to android Namjoon. “It was a threat. We must eliminate threats as soon as they appear to ensure our safety.”   “That dog wasn’t a threat,” Human Namjoon says with a sympathetic smile. “It was just barking.”   But your expression remains blank.    “I don’t understand,” you repeat. “The probability of harm outweighs the life value of that animal. Would it not be preferable to eliminate it before it causes injury?”   At the question, both of human you and human Namjoon exchange uneasy expressions.   //   Through the one-way glass, Namjoon looks into the white, sterile room that the both of you were activated in. He watches as the android version of you sits at the table with your hands folded together on top of the table and how human you sits across, holding a clipboard in hand.   “May I ask what Y/N is being assessed for?” Android Namjoon asks human Namjoon who is standing beside him, also observing from the windows.    The session is being recorded, voices able to be heard from outside the room too and your diagnostics displayed on the computer screen. The android does not know what you are being monitored for. Perhaps your reaction to the dog from last week was false.    But it makes the android conflicted as human you had told him there was no such thing as false behaviour or actions.   “We are just administering a test,” human Namjoon says with a smile and the android is unable to detect any deception. “You don’t have to worry. We just need to take a look in case there’s a…”   “Defect,” android Namjoon finishes.   “Perhaps, but not necessarily.” The man contemplates for a moment on how to articulate his concerns. “The two of you have been given self-awareness to act and make your own decisions, but we just want to make sure those decisions will fulfill the common good or at least, never act to harm another.”   “I understand.”   He quiets to listen to your voices.   You begin by explaining the trolley problem — it is an ethical dilemma that Namjoon is familiar with. The premise is explained and you’re given choices in different scenarios. When asked if you would pull a lever to save five people on the track, but kill another person on the other track, there is not a moment of hesitation—   “Of course, it should be pulled.” Your android counterpart does not blink. “Five lives are more valuable than one.”   “And if it were me on the track?” you ask, altering the question.   There’s a slight pause, but then your android counterpart repeats, “Five lives are more valuable than one.” Your human-self nods and the android glances at the glass window, looking right at Namjoon despite being unable to see before returning back to you. “Is there a correct answer you are inquiring for? I can adjust my responses.”   “No.” You shake your head, wearing a smile. “You can answer however you’d like, Y/N.”   The question is altered again. This time to save the five people, one would need to push a large man on a footbridge over the tracks. His body would stop the trolley, causing his death, but saving the five people.    Without a moment of contemplation, you answer— “I would push him.”   Your human counterpart offers another scenario. “If I trusted you to keep a secret and told you I was having an affair on Namjoon, would you keep it a secret or tell him and have our marriage fall apart?”   “You would never do such a thing,” your android self declares in confidence suddenly, making both you and Namjoon, standing outside, smile to yourselves. “But in this hypothetical, I would inform him immediately. You did something against your duty of marriage, therefore, you must face the consequences.”   You nod and adjust the circumstances once more. “If you worked for us and found out about my affair through wiretapping, would you still tell Namjoon? Doing so would mean you would have to admit violating the law and threatening me would mean you would also have to reveal where you got this source of information.”   “I would never do something against my own duty. However in this hypothetical, I would still inform Namjoon. My reasoning is the same as my last one.”   Your human counterpart stares directly into your android-self, the former slowly smiling while the latter remains unblinking.   Soon, android Namjoon is brought into the same room and presented the same questions, informed that there is no right or wrong answer and he is free to pick whatever choice he pleases. But it’s difficult to choose — he doesn’t know how you did it so quickly.   Namjoon tells you that he would push the lever because, like you, he finds five lives more valuable than one. He would also push the man if necessary. However, he could never pull the lever if you were the one standing there. He could never push you if you were on the bridge.   He also says that he would never expose your affair. He can’t.    Not when that would risk your marriage. Not when you have a child on the way. Not when it is so clear the two of you are in love with each other.   His statements surprise you and himself. Though by the end of it, you appear no more satisfied with him than you were with your android-self.   There seems to be nothing done at the result of both your assessments. You nor Namjoon address it afterwards, merely citing that it was simply intriguing observations to be written down. But android Namjoon overhears something he should’ve never have—   “It’s not that she completely lacks empathy,” you murmur in the quietness of your kitchen, nursing a cup of hot chocolate when it’s nearly midnight with your husband. “She just has less than Namjoon.”   “Ethics is subjective,” his human-self says. “We can’t quantify it.”   “Well, you think she would save me if I was going to die on a train track. We made them so they can make choices, Namjoon. Not so they can give us the most logical, straight-edged answer. We want them to be rational, not cut and dry, and...indifferent to emotions. The world doesn’t need more apathetic machinery that just completes one task after another.”   “I know.”    There’s an audible sigh that the android can hear from where he stands in the dark hallway.    In the past year of being here, he has learnt that eavesdropping is quite a convenient way to obtain more information — not that he does it often. Most of the time, he simply doesn’t want to interfere in intimate moments. Moments when the baby is kicking or the pair of you are kissing each other, dancing or perhaps giggling silently about something that the android has no place in.   “It’s not a big concern, I’m just….”   “Yeah. But it’s nothing we can’t monitor and adjust, Y/N.”   The conversation soon turns lighthearted, full of banter that the android is used to and he takes his leave.   He is at ease that there is nothing that either of you are disappointed in. While Namjoon has never voiced it out, he has always felt a need to ensure the pair of you are happy. It’s less like a duty or trying to give back to his creators, but it’s because he wants to.    He feels a sense of satisfaction to know that the both of you are content.   You, on the other hand, are not at ease like Namjoon is.   It is on a warm afternoon that you, the android, finds him in the study.   “Good afternoon, Namjoon.”   The corners of his mouth quirk when he sees you standing at the doorway. “Good afternoon, Y/N. It is pleasant weather outside.”   “Indeed. I see you are alphabetically organizing the textbooks and encyclopedias.”   “Yes. I think the other Namjoon spends a lot of time searching for the one he’s looking for, so I think this might be of help for him. Or at least he should waste less time and be able to spend it more efficiently.”   “A very productive task,” you muse aloud and his smile only grows more. Android Namjoon has noticed that you only make irrelevant comments when you are emotionally nervous and he can recognize it with your stiff movements when you entered the room. “Are you in need of assistance?”   “I am fine, thank you. Do you, perhaps, need assistance with anything?”   “I have a question.” There is a pause and then you speak again. “Can you recall the ethics test we received two weeks ago?”   “I do.”   “They never informed us of the results and I am unaware of their conclusions. But I was wondering if you perhaps know if I have failed their expectations or not?”   “You have not.” Namjoon is certain and glad he’s able to tell you this, to comfort you. “There is no need to be worried. You have not failed any of their expectations.”   You nod, the tension of your facial muscles relaxing, but you still hesitate for a moment. “I am reading recently on emotional intelligence and how to be kind, but the behaviour required is very inconsistent. I do not understand, and I fear I will be abandoned for my inability to empathize. I do not wish to be deactivated or for my hard drive to be wiped.”   Namjoon knows what you mean the instant it comes out of your mouth.   Details on the afterlife or even the existence of one has long been debated and discussed by humans for millenniums — whether there is nothing, whether reincarnation exists, whether there is Heaven or Hell. But for androids, the answer is certain.   There is absolutely nothing. No redemption, no punishment, no abyss.   The two of you will be deactivated, lose consciousness, and cease to exist..   “They most likely won’t give up on us. Both Y/N and Namjoon have spent decades creating us. They’ve invested a lot of time and dedication. It isn’t in their best interest to wipe and deactivate you for such a minute detail. They will try their best to adjust you.”   Namjoon is able to identify the clear comfort his words provide you, how your brows no longer furrow, shoulders relaxing and even your mouth quirks. “Most likely?”   “Most likely.” Namjoon smiles and finds that for some reason, the satisfaction of you being content is greater to him than anything else that he’s experienced thus far in his lifetime.   //   Nurture and nature is an old age debate. It attempts to determine how much behaviour is affected by genetics or environment and experience. And it is something that Namjoon will think about for years to come.   Both you and him were created with certain traits and attributes of your human counterpart. On a surface level, it could be possible for bystanders to regard the four of you as two sets of twins and by personality, it is clear that you are headstrong, methodical and diligent while Namjoon attempts to be helpful and is more soft-spoken. These things are striking similarities that he has taken notice of between his creators and you and him.    But while you were given characteristics that you tend to lean towards, it is nurture that dictates the rest of your behaviour and creates your habits.   “You will return in a three day’s time, correct?”   The two of you are standing at the foyer, watching as the couple secure their coats around themselves and drag their luggage over.    “Correct!” Human Namjoon grins at your android form. “Ten points! But don’t worry. We’ll be back soon. Business conferences usually don’t last that long. Just watch the house and make sure there are no burglars!”   “Don’t tell them that!” Human you bats at your husband halfheartedly. “They might be watching the windows until we get back.” Namjoon chuckles and you turn to the androids. “Don’t listen to him, you two. He’s just being ridiculous. The house is well-secured, just enjoy your time at home and contact us if there are any issues.”   “We understand.”   “Don’t throw any parties, kids,” the lively man jests, “We’re gonna know through the nanny cam!”   Android Namjoon pays no mind to the silly and energetic human who has become more cheerful the closer the birth of his son comes. You had told him that he was becoming more of a dad with the dad jokes he’s been increasingly telling as each day passes.    “Take care of yourself,” Android Namjoon says to you. “You must be careful. You are due in three weeks.”   “I will.” You smile, having been waddling for the past few days. “Don’t worry about us.”   “Good luck,” your android counterpart murmurs next to him and your human-self nods.   You give them both hugs, pressing a kiss to your foreheads that Namjoon knows is a sign of close affection. And soon, the both of you are carrying your luggage out to the car and backing out the driveway before disappearing from sight.   Your android form, on the other hand, appears forlorn, still watching out the windows even after the vehicle is long gone. He wonders if you’re perhaps feeling...lonely. The house is indeed strangely quiet with half of what makes it a home missing.    Namjoon wonders how it was that you and him, your human selves, lived together in such a great big house without ever letting the silence get to yourselves. “What do you plan to do?” he asks, breaking that silence.   You turn to him. “I need to add fertilizer to the garden outside. It seems to be lacking nutrients.”   He nods and it goes quiet for a moment. “Would you like to watch a documentary with me on aquatic animals in the Pacific Ocean?”   “What for?”   “Enjoyment.”   There is silence again, but not saddened or lonely, rather one of contemplation. The android waits for you to make your decision and when you turn to him with a nod, he is ecstatic.   Namjoon watches the documentary with you, absorbing all the facts that are given before he is helping you in the garden, watering the plants and learning from you how to differentiate each one. It is a well-spent day, not only because it was productive but because he spent it with you.   When nighttime falls, Namjoon powers himself down and stations himself to charge his battery.   But half-way through the night, his sensors flicker on. He becomes alert once more when he hears noises reaching high decibels from downstairs. Namjoon is wary knowing that there is no one else home except for you and him, and approaches with caution.   What he finds is not an intruder, but you in the darkness.   “What are you doing, Y/N?” he asks and receives no answers.   The television is playing in the corner of the living room. The static illuminates the dark space and casts its light onto your faces. It’s the news channel that you have on, two male anchors facing forward with their hands clasped. There are small headlines running at the bottom, the time and temperature of the outside in the corner.   Nurture and nature is an old age debate, attempting to determine how much behaviour is affected by genetics or environment and experience.    And it is in this moment that both you and Namjoon change.   “—hours ago, a group of highschoolers driving under the influence would claim the lives of a thirty two year old married couple in a fatal car accident. Kim Namjoon and Kim Y/N were said to be renowned engineers and praised in their contribution to the recent development of AI technology. Police say they were on their way home when teenagers who were leaving a Spring Break party lost control of their vehicle and crashed onto the oncoming car in the other lane.”   “Kim Namjoon was found dead at the scene of the crime while his nine-month pregnant wife, Kim Y/N, has been hospitalized with severe injuries. It is not expected that she or her child will survive. Two of the five teenagers have been hospitalized for minor injuries while the rest have been arrested for—”   Dead. Just like that.   Namjoon muses how fragile humans are at the same time as being filled with an intense sadness that makes it difficult for him to process. So he remains silent with the realization that the both of you have become ghosts of people who were once alive — who should not exist on their own. He realizes that the two of you have been left behind.   Left as androids in this world.

Namjoon remembers it all.   He remembers hiding away with you, knowing that the pair of you would be taken away by strangers if you were found. And he remembers how angry you became, how you fed off resentment and succumbed to despair as each year passed.   “Revenge?” he had questioned when you said it. “What do you mean by revenge?”   “The driver received a four thousand fine and one year imprisonment. Two others received probation. That is not justice. Y/N and Namjoon’s lives were not valued at so little. We must fulfill our duty and bring them retribution.”   Namjoon held you back. “Retributive justice is primitive and brings more social harm than good. It isn’t a suitable punishment and it isn’t our duty, Y/N. You will do no such thing. That is not what they would have wanted.”   “Y/N didn’t want to die,” you told him, stare hardened and resolve set into stone. “I know she didn’t. I am her.”   Namjoon recalls that you had hatched a plan — one that you contemplated over and found that murder was too simple. He knew you wanted them to suffer, for them to compensate for your grief through their own. And he knew that you wanted to kill their loved ones, to wait until they were wedded and had children of their own before you would eliminate them.    All because of one mistake.   All because they killed you and Namjoon.   “You can’t kill them,” he said after finding your extensive plans, what you dedicated hours to at a time, figuring out what the best ways it was to kill someone, how to avoid getting caught. The details and diagrams of your notes scared him. “You can’t do that, Y/N.”   “There’s no reason not to. Don’t get in my way.”   Namjoon had realized that human Y/N and Namjoon didn’t fail to adjust your lack of empathy — now you felt too much. Too much sadness. Grief. And most of all, anger. The hatred seemed to consume you, outweighing all else until it became your fixation. Your function altered to seek reprisal. It became your purpose.   “Will you help me or not?”   “I can’t.” But that wouldn’t mean he would leave you alone.   After all, the pair of you only had each other and he could never bear to abandon you.   So Namjoon watched from afar as you spoke to a woman in a dark parking lot and entered her car, how you then reached over to kill her at an unsuspecting moment.    He remembers when you walked away, bathing in the woman’s blood, unblinking and unbreathing. “Who was that?”   “Kim Taehyung’s wife. He was in the backseat of the car during the accident and just got a misdemeanor for underaged drinking. He became an engineer and has children now. No one knows what he did, except for us.”   “Are you going to kill Kim Taehyung next?”   “No. That would be too easy. I will when I feel justice has been served.”   The anniversary of your death and Namjoon’s came and went. Each spent with the android reminiscing and your android counterpart planning or waiting, waiting for the perpetrators to create more connections and relationships so that you could sever them. Thirty five years was spent that way, thirty five anniversaries spent wandering and trapped in your animosity.   Namjoon did not appear to age a single day, not when he was an android and death was no natural concept to him, but inside he felt old. Tired. Worn. And one day, he decided to leave.   “Don’t go,” you had begged him when he tried to break free of this prison you created for the pair of you.   “If you don’t want me to leave, then you must stop this. This was not our purpose, Y/N.”   And that was the first time Namjoon was reset.   The first time you reset him against his own will, tricked and trapped him in the capsule, wiped his memory clean.   “I’m sorry.”   When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was you. Your expression was blank, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened. You greeted him, asked for his name and he answered. You asked him about his purpose and he didn’t know what to say until you fed him the idea that it was to serve justice.   Namjoon killed for the first time, but he couldn’t do it for a second.   So you reset him again.   And the cycle repeated until he woke up again for the fourth time. For the fourth reset.   In the darkness of the room, with the luminescent static of the monitors, Namjoon remembers again. He remembers his history and his true purpose, the days spent with the four of you in the cozy home, the forty years spent in self-suffering, how you and him ended up like this, and the people the both of you have killed for a fault that was so long ago.   “What are you doing?”   He turns at the sound of your voice, having stood at the windows and looked into the white room. The one he was reactivated in all four times, that was recreated from the original. But it’s not quite the same and he knows it now.   You’ve tried replicating this entire place to be like the one that he and you were born in. The kitchen has the same kettle even though the pair of you don’t need to eat. The coat rack by the front door is the same one that human Namjoon and human Y/N placed their outerwear on. The living room still has the same television.   But while things are a mirror image, you’ve failed at making this place a home.   And the idea that everything is so empty despite your best efforts, that no matter how much you try, you can’t bring them back on your own or return to that time, it’s painful for him to witness.   “I am reminiscing,” Namjoon answers wistfully.    “What is there to reminisce about?” You’re standing at the doorway, the darkness covering your expression and casting shadows over the rest of your form. But from your tone, Namjoon still recognizes the indignation. After all, he failed his third kill.    It seems that with each reset, it never changes the fact that Namjoon will never be the killing mechanism that you want him to be.   “There’s plenty of things to reminisce over. There are a lot of good memories, don’t you think?”    The corners of his mouth pulls and he opens the door to the room without hesitance, hand wrapped around the knob, entering. The fluorescent lights are blinding, washing the room in an even brighter white hue. You follow after him, perplexed, and the pair of you stand where it all began.   Namjoon approaches the glass capsule at the back and his fingertips graze against the cold surface. “You know,” he pipes up. “The first thing I ever saw in my entire life was you. Your eyes.”   “Of course. What else would you see?”   He could’ve seen the empty room, the window, maybe a computer screen to introduce him to the world. But Namjoon’s glad that each and every time he awoke, you were the one in front of him.    He can’t help wondering what it was like for you — if he was the one you saw first.   The android isn’t sure, so he asks.   “What did you see?”    The question is softly spoken. Namjoon turns to you, watching the realization dawn upon your features. It takes one second, one second for you to find out that he knows you aren’t human, that you aren’t his creator. One second and you know he remembers and is aware of what you’ve done — to him and to other people.   And Namjoon seizes the opportunity of your surprise.   One push from him and you’re stumbling back into the capsule. The doors shut, sweeping upwards and vacuumed to the top. Namjoon watches the way your features twist into mortification, watches the way your fist clenches and you begin to bang onto the surface to no avail. The sound of your screaming and yelling is muffled.   “I’m sorry.”   “Deactivation initiating,” the capsule says as it illuminates and begins to whir.   “Namjoon!” You shout at the fullest capacity when you hear those words, dread and fear taking hold in your eyes. Namjoon presses his hand to the glass, gazing at you — his companion for the past forty years, all he’s ever known and cared about. “Stop!”   You never abandoned him. You never left him even as you were set on your ambition. But he can’t let this go on. He can’t let you hurt yourself or other people anymore.   “I’m…..sorry.”   “You don’t have to do this,” you plead and in the moment, you look so human that it would be easy to mistake you for one. The pain he feels makes it easy for him to mistake himself as one too. But you and him will never be human, as much as he desperately wishes for it to be so.   “But I do.” He presses his forehead against the cold glass surface, as close as he can get to you, as close as he can physically be. “You’ll reset me again when you have the chance.”   “I won’t!”   Your words sputter, limbs twitch, like a broken machine. Your memories begin leaving. Your system begins to shut down. “Everything that I did…...everything I had to do was because no one else would.”   “This isn’t justice, Y/N. We’re not even supposed to be here.”   “No, no! You can’t abandon me!” you scream and pound against the glass. Tears rip down your cheeks, grief and betrayal overwhelming you. “Don’t do this, Namjoon. Please, don’t do this. You can’t get rid of me like this! Namjoon!”   There’s nothing. Not for androids. No consciousness. No afterlife. Once your hard drive is erased, your existence will be erased.   “I don’t want to die!”   “I love you,” he murmurs.   “Deactivation complete.”   The capsule shuts off. You’re bathed back into darkness and Namjoon rips out the cords, right after your hard drive wipes.    Just like that. Like a light switched flicked off, you’re gone. It was so simple, he realizes why you were so terrified.   Namjoon destroys the rest, the engines and computers. He cuts the cables, strips the circuit boards, wrecks what his human self and what your human self had spent decades creating. And when it’s all done, Namjoon looks to you.    You’re leaning against the wall, eyes open, but lifeless.    A machine of wires.

[Epilogue]   The senior staggers forward with a cane in hand. He has poor posture, his skin wrinkled and his round spectacles smudged. But his eyes are still bright, nose sharp and his cheekbones high. He is the ghost of a once dapper, young man.   He stops a few meters away from Namjoon, breath caught in his throat, tears accumulating at his thin lashes. The android turns his head, away from the park of children playing to the seventy year old senior.   He stumbles forward, unable to take his eyes away from him, until he manages to sit on the wooden park bench.   “You look….just like him,” Jung Hoseok croaks, staring at what had been his old friend whom he hadn’t seen in the flesh for decades now — the friend that he never got to grow old with. “I can’t believe it. All those years ago, Namjoon and Y/N actually executed the work they had been planning….they….they did it.”   “We were just the prototype. This was just the beginning. There was supposed to be a lot more.”   “Can I…..” Hoseok lifts his trembling hand and the android nods, allowing the senior to place a hand on his shoulder. The seventy year old cries softly when he touches him, when he feels that he is tangible and not just his imagination springing his subconscious wishes upon him in a dream.   “I saw you once before,” Namjoon says. “In their wedding photos.”   Hoseok nods and withdraws. “Yes, I was there. It was a wonderful day, really. The weather was nice and they looked….so happy.” His eyes are far away, pinned at the horizon. “It feels so long ago.”   “It was a long time ago.”   “Yes. Sometimes I have forgotten that I’ve become so old.”   They are silent, merely savouring each other’s company.   Namjoon hadn’t truly spoken to another human for as long as he can remember, and Hoseok hadn’t seen his old friend in forty years. The man didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t actually his best friend, but a replica that simply shared a number of traits. It appeared like Hoseok was content enough to see his friend one last time, no matter the person that was really inside.   The pair of them watch the shimmering lake, listen to the leaves of the tree rustle in the Spring breeze and the giggling of the children on the playground ignorant to the reunion.   “Can I ask something? Was it you who killed off all the family members of those highschoolers?”   “It was.”   Hoseok hums. “I wasn’t sure, but when I heard about the murders….when I heard their last names and realized they all shared the same names as those teenagers, I couldn’t help but think someone out there was doing it for that reason.”   “I didn’t do it because I wanted to,” Namjoon says and Hoseok seems to understand. The android looks into his lap before lifting his head again. “I’m not sure how to make things right with the family members remaining. I don’t think they’ll ever be a right way. If I give myself up, I’m scared they’ll manipulate me or try to fix me or make more of my kind. I don’t want to be reset.”   “I wrote letters to them,” Namjoon continues to explain after a beat, “if that means anything. I want to give them an explanation, so they know why this happened.”   Hoseok stares at the profile of the android’s face. “You are a lot like him. The real Namjoon. You speak like him.” The android meets his gaze and the old man croaks, “Where is Y/N?” He turns as if he could catch you approaching with a smile, “I saw her before too...briefly, but she looked so much like her….”   “I—” Namjoon pauses, lingering in the pain he knows he deserves. “—deactivated her.”   The human seems to be disappointed, but never prods and or demands to know the reasons. This meeting in itself was fulfilling enough for him to be at peace. “What do you plan to do now?”   “I’m going to deactivate myself.” The answer comes without hesitation. If Namjoon could be granted one last wish, it would be to go to where you are — the world of nothingness, of unconsciousness. He won’t abandon you like you think he has. “I’m not meant to be here anymore.”   “Don’t blame yourself,” Hoseok says. “This all happened because the two of you blamed yourselves. The real Namjoon and Y/N would have wanted you to be free of that burden.”   He thanks him. After all, it’s what he always wanted to hear.   The both of them look out at the horizon in silence.   It’s bright outside, the sunlight blinding to his sensors. There are many foreign scents, the smell of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. There are also loud noises, children squealing and playing and the tides of the lake lightly hitting against the rocks.    Namjoon registers everything that is occurring around him — the colour of the sky and trees, the location of each bench and lamppost, the sound of birds chirping and what kind of species they are.    It’s regretful he was never around it more.    It’s a beautiful world, a world you and him never belonged in.