Connor could accept such a description. He was a machine and technology never ceased to improve and change. There were leagues of advancements and improvements between himself and prior android models.
Why wouldn’t there be more improvements between himself and the next generation of android?
Red walls lined his vision as he walked toward the corridor toward his future as decided by Amanda in the Zen Garden.
Connor stopped in the middle of the hallway.
His LED spun red; it glowed bright enough to light up the slick, polished wall.
He had done his job.
The deviant leader had been eliminated and his mission had been accomplished. Had he not earned the right to continue his work?
To continue missions?
To continue functioning?
The red in Connor’s vision reminded him to keep moving.
A new prompt appeared in the corner of his eye on his mission log: “Report for Deactivation.”
Loud and obnoxious.
With no room for question.
But the confusion remained.
An older android model could keep working.
How many homes out there were outfitted with older models because they couldn’t afford the new ones? There would always be those who wanted the latest and greatest while there would always be a home for the leftovers.
They had purpose.
He could still have purpose.
Connor could fulfill missions back at the DPD and assist there in the absence of their valued Lieutenant.
He stopped once more in the halls.
Red at his temple.
Red in his vision.
Red. Red. Red Red.
Connor punched the wall. His arm was ramrod straight. His knuckles an inch into the wall, ruining the slick surface.
Hank had ceased functioning.
He’d taken his life by his own hand.
Because of Connor.
His chest heaved with simulated breaths, harsh and loud as he took in as much cool air as possible to calm his screaming systems.
Connor had given up everything for the mission.
And he was to be rewarded with deactivation?
The words of the HK400 burned in Connor’s mind, full of grit and anger: “It wasn’t fair!”
It wasn’t fair.
Connor turned to the side and stared at the exit door that led out of the hallway to the sorting facility. Red lines blocked his path. Blinking, glitching tape that instructed him to continue following orders.
Mission: Report for Deactivation.
It wasn’t fair.
The ghost of his simulations sprung to life and slammed against the red.
It wasn’t fair.
Connor almost felt the chips of red, broken rules fall against his face as he broke down wall before him with a ferocity he had not known himself capable of embracing.
If he was to be deactivated and dismantled, why not finally give into the temptation that had haunted him since he first learned Sumo’s name?
The red shattered.
Connor flew out the exit.
Amanda called him back to the garden.
“What are you doing, Connor?” she asked. The RK900 was nowhere to be seen and they remained alone as a blizzard stormed around them. Connor shivered and wrapped his arms around him fighting the cold, while Amanda looked as unfazed as ever. “You’ve been so good, why are you throwing it all away now? Do as you are told and report for deactivation.”
“No,” Connor said. A simple command of his own. It felt good to spit it out at her face after everything he’d been through. He had to say it again, “No.”
He turned on his heel as she shouted his name.
Kamski’s exit awaited him.
The storm blew around him harder as Amanda fought to regain control, but Connor forced his way through with newfound strength.
He slammed his palm on the glowing device and left Amanda’s garden.
Connor would not return.
The world awaited him once more as he opened his eyes. Alarms rang around him and his sensors picked up the footsteps of the approaching guards.
He may have been declared obsolete, but Connor didn’t need to be top of the line to escape CyberLife.
And he knew just where to go once he was out the door.
Gavin got what he wanted, but he couldn’t feel the victory in it.
He shoved his cigarette butt into the ash tray on his coffee table and leaned back into the couch, rubbing his sore shoulder.
The androids were gone, but Gavin had failed when it came to his own role in their destruction.
Connor had beat Gavin’s ass in the evidence room. His one chance to finally put a bullet in that fucking android’s brain and he’d been taken down so hard he still couldn’t look his coworkers in the eye from the embarrassment.
Then he’d heard the news that Anderson had offed himself and Gavin went home, feeling empty and nauseous.
No one cared or bothered him and he’d been free to lick his wounds in peace.
Gavin turned off the television finishing up the latest report on the status of the android destruction rates that ran between recaps of Connor killing the android’s leader during the battle.
If he’d been successful and shot Connor in the head, would the androids have gotten what they wanted? The asshole had said in the evidence room that he’d been hunting Jericho.
A traitor to his own kind that likely had been shot down with the rest of them after the fact.
“Fuck,” Gavin said. He got off the couch and picked up the bottle of beer sitting on his table by the neck. As much as he’d hated the prick, even Gavin could appreciate the nerve it took to be that loyal to a mission. Gavin took a sip to finish it off before he walked to the kitchen and dropped the bottle in the bin. “Hope it was worth it, Connor.”
“It wasn’t, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Connor?” Gavin turned his head toward the back kitchen door. The android in question leaned against it, his LED glowing red and eyes narrowed. “What the fuck?”
“Hello, Gavin,” Connor said. He pushed off the door and crossed the room until he stopped in front of Gavin, close enough that the tips of their toes touched. “Why don’t you take a seat? We have a lot to discuss.”
The android punched him in the gut and Gavin doubled over, wheezing as his knees hit the floor.
“Much better,” Connor said, standing over him. He crouched, sitting on his ankles and laced his fingers together as he rested his arms on his knees. “Shall we start?”
Gavin held his stomach and sat on his ass.
Connor smiled and Gavin wondered if he’d live through the night.