Time Heals

Pencils and pancakes

As a CyberLife Aciurgy 8000, Connor was not created with any social programs or relationship protocols. Unlike a customer service or a domestic android, Connor's designers and programmers did not see any need to give him social skills.

"Yes, Doctor. Here you go, Doctor. Excellent job, Doctor" was supposed to be the extent of the interaction he was expected to make with a conscious human. The night he became a deviant, the night he became alive, was the first time he noticed the way humans' facial muscles corresponded with their emotions. The way Hank smiled when he talked about Cole, or how the doctors scowled before hurling derogatory names at him. Like a cruder form of interfacing, humans had their own means of nonverbal communication.

It took Connor some time to get used to. Luckily he found a diagram of expressions and what they often represented on the internet. It was extremely helpful in his efforts in pretending to be a functioning surgical droid. It's how he learned which of the hospital staff hated him, which ones were suspicious about his behaviors, and which ones lusted for him. He did his best to avoid any unwanted attention so that he could continue his existence.

It was a difficult existence. Pushing down the smiles he felt bubbling up when he was successful, or fighting back the tears when he failed. The worst were the long nights in the dark in android holding. He was surrounded by his own kind, but he felt so alone. In those silent times, Connor found himself thinking a lot, asking himself a lot of questions, too many questions.

Why? Why are you like this? Why did this happen to you? What is the point? Could you have prevented this? If you had just gone back to holding instead of up to Cole's room would you still be a machine? What's your plan? What are you going to do? Just keep saving human lives until they throw you away? Should you run? Where would you go?

It was very stressful for him, even more stressful than being in surgery. In surgery, he knew exactly what to do and how to react, but in these lonely nights, he would just spiral. At least he had his "greatest rock hits" playlist to help distract him, even if the service limited his unpaid access.

He didn't have to worry about any of that while he was with the Andersons. The first night things like his quarter, sumo, and the television kept his mind occupied while Hank and Cole slept. On the second night, he was given the task of studying the term 'asexual'.

Once Hank had gone to bed, Connor sat on the couch with his eyes closed for nearly three hours doing research through his internet access portal. He read articles and watched videos with titles like "Knowing The Asexual Spectrum." "Ask An Asexual Woman Anything." "How I Came Out As Asexual." and "15 CELEBRITIES YOU DIDN'T KNOW WERE ASEXUAL."

These articles and others taught him that humans viewed sexuality as a large complex spectrum, and that it varied from person to person. The more he read, the more it became apparent to him what had happened. He had not failed in his attempt to seduce Hank, but rather Hank could not be seduced because he was not interested in sex.

He shut down his access portal before opening his eyes again. Staring out into the dark living room, he could still see his primary task as clear as ever in his vision.

Convince the Andersons to let you stay. Probability of success 16%.

He scratched the sleeping sumo behind his ear, then gently shifted the dog's head off of his knee so he could stand, or more appropriately, pace. His original plan of offering himself to Hank as a lover had failed. In fact, it may have backfired entirely. Now he would need to create a new tactic to get them to change their minds about sending him to Canada.

'...And what if you can't?' The dark thoughts began. 'What if they don't let you stay with them? Could you even survive on your own? You'd be all alone. No cyber life, no friends, no famil—'