Chapter Text
The first reports were not alarming. They were accounted for as simple mechanical disturbances, which, in all cases, proved to be unavoidable. Although seemingly impossible expectations were set for all employees, even that was no guarantee that an android wouldn't make irrational decisions as a result of a possible faulty code. The rudimentary cases, which could hardly be called violent, seemed to be random, and the company made sure to provide adequate compensation to the victims. The deviant androids were recalled — citing maintenance procedures — and owners were sent a new, flawless model, assuring them that no inconvenience would occur again.
It was easy to sweep the problems caused by incompetent robots under the rug: they were deactivated, then sent to a landfill and they forgot that they ever existed. There were no reports of unfortunate malfunctions, and owners didn't ask questions after the replacement of their previous Androids.
You spent years perfecting your designs. In the beginning, you only dared to entertain the idea that robots would be an integral part of your lives, but lately, your dreams became reality, and you watched - almost mesmerized - as your world radically changed. Androids were designed to obey and assist humans. Elijah Kamski's masterpieces fulfilled the role they were assigned. Within a strict framework, they behaved mechanically and, unlike humans, they did not need food or sleep, so they were available every minute of the day. You had a key role in the creation of many types, and after the head of the company - Elijah - resigned from his position, in exchange for a quieter life, in his words, you took over the control over the production of Cyber Life models.
The threat of the androids' ever-increasing deviance loomed over you like a shadow, threatening that at any moment, one wrong decision on your part would unleash a wildfire beyond your control.
The Cyber Life Tower was located in an area outside the city, hiding it from the prying eyes of Detroit. The monumental building with its forty-nine floors was tasked with completing several procedures, including the production of the machines and the implementation of rudimentary experimental processes. You often didn't even go home, your rural, two-story house was a seemingly endless distance away, and you, yourself, found it difficult to leave the protective walls of your office. The tower was guarded by hundreds of soldiers, ensuring that no one could get in or out without monitoring. You were initially uncomfortable by the over-the-top security measures, but after the recent events, you felt relieved. They made sure that no one would think of attacking the tower: it would have been a suicide. The androids had a great risk assessment ability, they were able to determine with percent accuracy how much danger each scenario entailed, and in the case of the Cyber Tower, it was high. Not only the guards were a threat, the premises were protected by numerous hindrances: the workers were identified based on their voice and DNA, and they could only pass through the gates at the entrance with a hologram card.
You felt lost. With glassy eyes, you scanned the endless skyscrapers of Detroit while twirling the pen in your shaking hand. You could have left the building at the end of your working hours, but you decided to stay. Starring the papers scattered on your table, you were sure that you wouldn't be able to get through them before morning. Passing by your office, many cast questioning glances at the pile of paper, mainly because by then, digital notebooks had become widespread, and they would have made your work significantly easier, but you were unable to bring yourself to break free from your habits. You didn't want to give up the feeling as you ran your ballpoint pen over them, and you liked to believe that you were doing a more efficient job this way. Getting your thoughts down required more attention than a simple touch transfer to a tablet.
You looked up at the sound of the TV mounted on the wall. The news channel served as background noise, but the announcer's words rang bittersweetly in your ears.
"More complaints about deviant androids have been received by the Detroit Police Department. An AX400 shot its owner with a loaded gun, and a RK200 attacked a young woman with her bare hands. We all ask the question: can we feel safe in our own home? Let's switch to reporter Joss Douglas from Detroit, who will cover the details of the chilling events." The reporter's voice blurred into the soft, constant humming noise of the ventilation system.
You shook your head in resignation and turned off the device with a firm motion.
The hours stretched into each other, and you didn't even realize when the first rays of the sun forced their way through the gaps of the curtains, lighting up the office. Your eyes felt heavy, your arms laid numb on the table, and you sometimes had to shake your head to keep yourself awake. It was these moments that made you truly understand that this wasn't just a job for you. You considered it your mission to create androids that would not only make living easier, but also shape the future.
The ringing of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. Glancing down at your wrist, you noted that, given the early hours, it seemed unreasonable for a Cyber Life employee to be looking for you.
You pressed the accept button with a small sigh.
"[Name], how can I help you?"
"Good morning, ma'am! I apologize for bothering you so early, but it's an urgent issue. I'm Jeffrey Flower, Chief of the Detroit Police Department."
You winced involuntarily.
"Please, continue." your voice seemed unnaturally high, despite the fact that you tried to sound determined.
"It's about the deviant androids, but I can't say more than that. I would like to discuss the details in person, ma'am"
Fowler's succinct wording only raised more questions and alarm bells went off in your mind.
"Excuse me, sir, but I believe you're talking to the wrong person. I'm not in charge of the press department. I can transfer your call if you want me to."
After a few seconds, Fowler spoke again.
"I know who you are. And I'm also sure that you are the one who can help us. Please just listen to what I have to say. You can still refuse my offer after that"
It crossed your mind to just hang up the call without an answer, but your ever-increasing curiosity proved to be stronger.
"This morning?" you asked.
"I can see you in my office at half past eleven."
You nodded cautiously, even though Fowler couldn't see it.
"I'll be there." you swallowed your uneasy questions. "Goodbye Mr. Fowler."
Ending the call, you couldn't help but wonder how significant it was that the police specifically wanted to talk to you out of all people.
The cause of your worry was far from something preventing you from talking openly about the company and the machines they designed. Unlike most, you weren't held back by a strict NDA, but you still had a strange sense of loyalty tied to Cyber Life, the company which gave you a life, gave you a chance to start over and prove you were more than a programmer. Through the company, you were able to make your dreams come true, and for that, you owed them endless gratitude.
You couldn't explain why, but you were deeply dreading the meeting with Fowler.