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Connor was more human than he considered most people, and he was coming to admire the android no small amount for his selflessness and heart that had been locked away behind CyberLife's programming. With narrowed eyes, Hank slowly circled the couch, taking care to be quiet and hopefully not alert the android. That is correct chloe temple. Hank offered Connor a sympathetic look, empathizing with the guilt and baggage that came with that sort of turmoil. Was there a realistic potential for the two concepts to dance the tango together until they ironed out all their missteps and flowed as one?
The stove clock read 9:53, and already Hank was contemplating a third beer, having finished two bottles and his coffee over breakfast. They never spoke of it again. His eyelids flickered a little wonkily, facial expressions of fear, surprise, and recognition flashing across his features with jarring twitches before smoothing out. Chloe temple facial by surprise party. Androids were claiming to be alive–however people wanted to define that now. The LED on his temple cycled lazily white, occasionally pulsing a soft light.
A simple and heartwarming outing he was sure Hank would enjoy. 8F during the day; Low of 23F tonight. He offered instead, redirecting the conversation to something more manageable, and certainly potentially less emotionally charged. Pushing humankind backwards? "The hell's your life come to, Hank, " he laughed hollowly, scrubbing the dredges of sleep from his face. "Slept well enough, all things considered, " he answered as he fell back into the cushions with a comfortable sigh. He had woken remembering last night, or at least most of it, considering he passed out drunk at some unknown point during the evening. There were so many possibilities leading down so many avenues spidering out farther and farther and fa–. Connor remained motionless, the LED unchanging. Stasis for several hours at a time was not previously required of me, " he clarified. "I meant what I said yesterday, " came Connor's answer, completely serious.
They were capable of not just expressing emotion, but experiencing it. Did you sleep well? " I wrote and revised this one easily five or six times, and I'm honestly quite happy with it, so I decided to finally stop fussing. I don't know how to express what I feel for the deviants who suffered and were des–killed by my actions or involvement, but I still wish to work on deviant and homicide cases that will inevitably spike over the coming months, only, with Markus' goal of peace between our kind in mind.
I had thought I was doing good, and doing good gave me a great sense of satisfaction, no matter the impact of my actions. The government's decisions on androids and possibly AI as a whole moving forwards would directly affect his line of work regardless of the decision, but this wasn't his first rodeo; he would get through whatever came at him. He had saved his colleague officer M. Wilson's life way back in August, when the name "Connor" meant nothing to him to the point he hadn't even connected the dots until he heard M. Wilson thanking Connor personally in the broadcast tower while they were investigating the scene. "I guess I really am allowed to want things now, huh? " As creepy as what he was doing was, and he absolutely knew he was being at least moderately creepy right now, Hank looked Connor up and down with an investigator's eye for detail like this was going to be the only time he'd ever get to examine a functioning android this closely. "How 'bout focusing on something small? Outdoor Temperature: Currently: 28. The LED turned yellow, then to blue as Connor regained his bearings, scanning the room around him. Hank patiently watched the yellow LED spin, amusedly comparing it to a buffering mouse cursor icon. A dozen lives, Hank's included, saved by that one impulsive action that should have technically been impossible for Connor to perform, had he not already broken the golden rule hardwired into androids that it was forbidden for them to bear firearms. He risked his own destruction pushing Chris away and defying Gavin, standing his ground unfaltering with a gun to his head to protect Carlos Ortiz's deviant when they were trying to bring the deviant to their cell. "Hey, Connor, wake up, " Hank patted the android's shoulder. Crime, investigation, human-android relations–mostly by way of negotiator and interrogator. Connor was physically artificial, but his conscience was real, and though it would take a while for Hank to come to terms with his involvement in the whole thing, he couldn't find a shred of regret siding with robo-Jesus and his cause.
They've had a lot of close calls, but that had been the closest Connor had gotten to dying. Notes: Hallo, hallo! "Fucking Christ, I'm too old for this shit, " he muttered to himself, quietly letting Sumo out in the yard before going to the bathroom to relieve himself. The all-too-human mental struggle of coming to terms with shooting the broadcasting deviant–his first and as far as Hank was aware, only individual Connor had ever killed–after the fact while he panicked over Connor's wounds. I think we can work something out. His skin and hair looked so real as to even mimic the appearance of natural skin oils on the surface, but he had seen the way it could peel back to expose white plastic paneling, revealing the artificial construction of his physical body. Connor picked up quickly on the shift and pondered it instead, running through thousands of web searches related to social gatherings and winter outdoor activities, narrowing his search down until he had a single stray thought that had immediately piqued his interest in. Though I modified my settings to try and more closely imitate human sleep. Saving Hank for the third time to the man's chagrin, from his own evil copy in the pit of CyberLife tower no less. He looked at Connor.
His gaze lingered on Connor's chest troublingly, remembering after the altercation with the broadcasting deviant he had been interrogating while they had all been in the hall still, unaware he had wandered down there to question the androids. He shoved the terrifying memory away. "You have been drinking again, " he remarked, frowning. Just so you look less dead, please. Connor was made to look remarkably human, unfortunately making the sight extra disturbing. Hank pretended to mull it over, but cracked a playful grin, mutually approving the idea. Saving him from falling off the rooftop when the deviant, Rupert, pushed him over. Mostly just forgetting additions like "swearing", "alcohol use/abuse/alcoholism", and the like for appropriate warnings.
Now he was in the middle of the next turning point in a potentially groundbreaking social and technological shift, but to what lengths this time? Least give me some room on the couch if you're going to keep sleeping, " he groused louder, shaking the android's shoulder. "That's going to take getting used to, " he muttered to himself. "I tried to simulate human sleep too effectively, and accidentally entered a deep state of stasis I haven't experienced previously.
He tapped the couch arm a few times, thinking. He sighed and peeked out of the kitchen to see if any of the noise had disturbed Connor, and to both his dismay and relief, Connor was still in the exact same position with that fluorescent white glow at his temple. They still bled all the same. "I don't really do much on my days off. Connor had been designed to look disarming; charming; trustworthy. Why did he have to go into stasis looking like he was being prepared for a bloody funeral.
Connor inquired casually. It still caught him off guard; he had fully expected Connor to be up and about or at least sitting up, active and responsive. They never did go back to the house. 4F; Expected high of 33. 'Course I'm going to drink to get that sight out of my mind. "
"I was happy to feel useful. "Can you keep whatever program lets you simulate breathing on going forward? So you guys know, there is a domestic slice of life plot to this series, and I'll keep writing these two going about their lives post-revolution so long as I'm inspired to write. Like, what would you like to do right now? " He never really got used to homicide, he just grew a thicker skin and kept his interactions with the survivors and affiliates of the victims to the minimum necessary to do his job. Returning to the kitchen for his coffee, Hank fed Sumo and took some extra time to whip up a plain breakfast out of the simple need for sustenance, and sat at the table in view of Connor in a way where he could look away and pretend he was minding his own business if there were any signs of life. Date: Saturday, November 13th. There were fresh traces of alcohol lingering on the man's lips and on his breath. He was in Hank's house. He quickly narrowed his thoughts to what he found familiar. At the movement's core though, its concept was really not as complicated as he and everyone else were making it out to be, he was coming to understand better. You said you were feeling lost without a sense of purpose.
"I would like to join you when you take Sumo out for his walk today, if I may. Androids were fascinating at one point to Hank, years ago when they were just stupid silly cartoonish robots that people taught tricks and made hilarious–yet through humans' tendency to anthropomorphize objects–cruel videos of pushing and kicking said robots over. He hoped in no small way though Markus would be successful in his political campaign now that things were supposedly moving to talks now, if just for Connor's behalf–as selfish as that was of him to think. "Good morning, Hank. Good God, I have the most advanced android in possibly all of America and a literal killing machine sleeping on my couch in my clothes right now, Hank realized as he was scrutinizing Connor's moles, trying to determine without touching him if they had an actual texture, or if their three-dimensional look was a well crafted illusion.