Detroit: Humans make mistakes

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Date: November 6, 2038 Time: 9:45 AM Location: Detroit, Michigan

Detroit Police Department Central Station

Her fingers nervously fidgeted with the zipper on her unbuttoned black leather jacket, soft to the touch but worn at the cuffs. She wasn’t late, but still felt as if another reprimand was just around the corner. The elevator doors slid shut quietly as the cabin started moving upwards with a gentle sway. The gray walls, cold and indifferent, reflected her tense expression.   That’s it. Goodbye, vacation. Hello, work.   She’d only been away from the department for two weeks, but it felt like an eternity. After time off, Detroit seemed bleak and dull compared to the sunny California beaches, where the golden sand and bright sun had made it easy to forget about daily worries. And yet, there was something familiar in the gloom of the city. The dusty streets, dim lighting, and rigid building facades. It even felt like the air here was heavier and thicker, but for some reason, it was easier to breathe. New York had swallowed her whole with its hustle and noise. The constant stream of people, relentless like a river, pushing everyone forward. Sure, it gave her the necessary push to climb the career ladder, but Detroit... Detroit still felt better. The slower pace, the quiet streets, and the chance to be alone with her thoughts had helped her recover after she’d tumbled down that ladder. The elevator chimed, announcing her arrival at the right floor, and the doors slowly parted. Hannah made her way down the hall, determined to grab a coffee first thing. She’d promised herself (and Captain Fowler) to show up on time, and that meant she needed some motivation. Coffee would do. At this time, the office was usually quiet. Jeffrey wouldn’t come in until ten, Hank by noon—if he even showed up at all—and Amber from accounting would stop by Hannah’s desk at eleven for another cup of coffee. The silence of the hallway was broken by faint voices coming from the cafeteria.   Could it be that someone actually showed up on time? Surprising.   The cafeteria, though not very spacious, made up for it with high ceilings and a sense of separation from the rest of the precinct. Narrow windows near the ceiling let in the cold light of a Detroit morning, casting everything in pale shades of gray-green. Along one of the walls were snack machines, next to which stood the ever-popular coffee maker. The coffee was terrible, if she was honest, but it was the best they had. The faint smell of freshly ground beans, though weak, created a semblance of warmth and coziness in the cold, almost featureless environment. “Look who’s back,” Reed called out, his lips curling into that familiar smirk as soon as Hannah came into view. Besides him, Chen and Wilson stood by one of the white high-top tables with chrome legs in the corner of the cafeteria. Hannah nodded in their direction, a silent greeting they returned with brief, slightly stiff smiles. “Miss me?” she asked with a smirk of her own, pouring the dark, steaming liquid into her cup. “What do you think, Stone?” Reed stepped closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes swept over her with that same disdainful look he always gave. “It’s been a lot quieter around here without your screw-ups.” Hannah snorted, trying not to show how much his words got under her skin, and took a sip of her coffee. Bitter, but warm.    King of sarcasm, she thought, recalling the countless times his jabs came as regularly as breathing. He was like the embodiment of every emotion she tried to steer clear of.   “What do you want, Reed?” she asked, feeling his gaze burn into her. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m just the bearer of bad news,” his smirk widened, as if savoring whatever he was about to drop on her. He nodded toward their colleagues as though they were witnesses to back him up. “Feds dropped by for a visit, and looks like they’ve got something to discuss with you.” He paused, dragging it out like he was enjoying every second. Then he jerked his chin toward the rest of the precinct, like they should all be clued into his cryptic message. “And?” Hannah raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher what he was getting at. “They’re here to figure out how you’re still employed,” his voice took on a mocking edge, and something that resembled malice flickered in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time for you to look for a new job, princess.” Stone stood there, her blood rushing to her cheeks at his words. Her face, usually calm and composed, now reflected the storm brewing inside. The dark eyes that often concealed the depths of her thoughts and emotions now flared with tension and outright disdain for him and this whole conversation. Reed took a step back, eyeing her up and down with a look that seemed to scream how pathetic he found her. Though, to be fair, that was the way he looked at all of his colleagues.   All of them.   “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped, glaring at Gavin, momentarily forgetting about her coffee. “Still clueless, huh?” Reed grabbed her elbow and started steering her toward the office. His rough hand gripped her arm tight, making her wince. Stopping near Fowler’s office, he pointed at Hank’s desk. “See that?” “And who’s that?” Hannah asked warily, glancing sideways at the man. Her dark amber eyes gleamed with suspicion. “That’s an FBI android,” Reed whispered, leaning in so close she could smell his minty gum mixed with the faint scent of tobacco. “They sent him here to test your competence. Guess they want to ship you back.” Hannah's brows furrowed in suspicion, her heart stalling for just a second. The news caught her off guard—unexpected, and oddly, uncomfortably so. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure, but deep down, a wave of nervous energy began to stir. “Just try not to screw it up like you usually do,” Reed rolled his eyes, watching her as she faltered. “Go on.”   He gave her a light shove between the shoulder blades, and Hannah stepped toward the stranger. The situation felt off, suspicious even, but in her mind, she'd already packed her things and said a silent screw this to the department. The android sat unnaturally still, in a pose no human would assume—but for him, it was perfectly calculated. His back was straight, hands folded neatly on his lap, and his gaze, like cold x-rays, shifted slowly from the lieutenant’s desk to her approaching figure. His perfectly sculpted features remained calm and focused. Smoothly combed chestnut hair, dark, penetrating eyes that seemed to scan everything in sight, and his impeccable posture revealed not just a machine—but a perfect specimen. Hannah dealt with androids nearly every day, but this was the first time her future might depend on one.   Maybe that’s why he feels so strange.   “Hello,” she extended her hand. The android stood from his chair and shook it. His handshake was warm and firm, yet too perfect—lacking that human hesitation or occasional overcompensation. “I’m Hannah Stone. Nice to meet you.” “Hello,” the android’s voice was pleasant and steady, like a finely tuned instrument. “My name is Connor.” “So…” Hannah awkwardly withdrew her hand, trying to mask her unease. “How’s the testing going to work?” Connor, still maintaining his perfect posture, tilted his head slightly as if pondering her question. “Testing?” he asked. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stone, but I don’t know what testing you’re referring to.” “You were sent here by the FBI, weren’t you?” Hannah frowned, catching a glimpse of movement near the cafeteria. Laughter echoed down the hall. “No,” Connor replied calmly, folding his hands behind his back. “I was sent by CyberLife to assist the department with deviant cases.” The laughter grew louder, and Hannah shot an annoyed glance at Reed, who stood by the coffee machine, loudly joking with his colleagues, his contempt for the situation evident in his tone. "Well, isn't he a son of a bitch," she muttered with a quiet smirk.   Of course. Gavin Reed. That bastard.   “What did you say?” Connor asked, his polite tone and unreadable expression only making him seem more mechanical in the face of Hannah’s rising irritation. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” she smiled weakly at the android, her gaze softening slightly. “I’ll leave you to it. I need to go tear into a certain jerk. But it was nice meeting you, Connor from CyberLife.” “The feeling is mutual, Ms. Stone,” Connor said, his eyes following her as she walked back toward her desk. Her long chestnut hair, tied into a loose ponytail, swayed slightly with each step. “However, I must point out that initiating confrontations during work hours is inappropriate.” Hannah paused, placing her bag and jacket on her chair. She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the desk, trying to calm herself down.   I really shouldn’t give Reed the satisfaction. The bastard’s just waiting for me to mess up.   Stone glanced toward the cafeteria, but it was empty. Only a few department staff rushed down the hallway toward their workstations, occasionally throwing curious glances in her direction. There was no sign of Gavin. She exhaled, feeling a faint sense of disappointment. And it wasn’t even because she wouldn’t be going back to the FBI. At least, not yet. The frustrating part was knowing she’d still have to see that smug jerk’s face for a while longer. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, when a now-familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Stone?" "Yes," Hannah replied, meeting the android’s gaze with a clear expression. The technicians had certainly outdone themselves with his design, because he looked...    Pleasant?   "What time does Lieutenant Anderson usually arrive?" "Noon," she shrugged. "If he shows up at all." The night shift had almost entirely swapped out with the day crew, and the office was slowly coming to life. The air was filled with the scent of coffee and reheated pizza. The voices of officers blended with the hum of printers and the steady footsteps echoing from different parts of the precinct, creating a backdrop of bustling activity. Amid the noise, Captain Jeffrey Fowler entered the office, shuffling folders in his hands. His face was stern, but it reflected years of accumulated fatigue, as if each wrinkle marked the weight of another difficult case. He stopped when he spotted Hannah, and a faint smile flickered across his lips, barely noticeable, and more for himself than for anyone else. "Back, I see," he nodded, giving her a firm pat on the shoulder, a touch that carried a hint of tough affection, as if testing her resilience. "You didn’t think I’d come back from vacation?" she asked, puzzled. Jeffrey shrugged vaguely, implying that the thought had crossed his mind. Not wanting to press, Hannah changed the subject. "Did I miss much?" she asked, offering a strained smile as she tried to slip back into the usual rhythm of conversation. The captain nodded toward Connor before gesturing for Hannah to follow him to his office. She walked behind him. "Met Anderson’s new partner yet?" Jeffrey smirked, dropping the folders onto his desk and motioning for her to take a seat as the door closed behind her. His office was spacious but cluttered with case files, giving the impression of perpetual busyness. Daylight streamed in only through the glass walls and door, yielding to the cold glow of overhead lamps. A large screen with a map along one wall flickered with fresh data, drawing attention every now and then. "You could say that," Stone sat down, feeling the cold leather of the chair beneath her. "So, how did Hank take it?" Jeffrey waved a hand dismissively as he settled into his own chair, making it clear that Anderson's reaction was exactly what anyone would expect. He folded his hands in front of him, studying Hannah closely. "You haven’t seen him yet?" "No. We talked a couple of days ago." "Well…" Fowler’s voice grew more serious. "I didn’t call you in for small talk. I can’t give you your own case right now. Your pals at the FBI have me by the throat, sorry to say. No one cares that I’m short-staffed and overwhelmed." "They’re not my pals," Hannah replied firmly, her voice dripping with disdain, "not anymore." The captain regarded her with a measured gaze, as if weighing her resolve and her ability to handle the new challenges ahead. There was a trace of understanding in his eyes, but also a harsh necessity. "Listen," Jeffrey laced his fingers together, his voice echoing with the weight of old memories. Ten years ago, it was her father sitting in this very spot, and now it was Hannah. "You’ve got two options: either you babysit Hank and the android, or you work with Reed." "Are you kidding me?" She raised an eyebrow, as if he’d just said something utterly ridiculous. "I figured," he smiled softly, but the smile vanished in an instant. "The attacks have started. And if rogue androids used to be 'CyberLife's problem,' now it’s criminal, and we need to deal with it before we all end up directing traffic." Hannah frowned.   What the hell is going on here?   When Jeffrey sent her on leave, none of this was happening. No murders by androids. What had changed? A cold knot tightened in her chest, a creeping sense of dread. "Is it that bad?" Her voice came out a little hollow. The captain nodded, his lined face looking even more worn out. "I just hope under your influence Hank doesn’t trash CyberLife property. I’m talking about the android." "He won’t," Stone answered, thoughtful but confident. Fowler exhaled deeply, gathering his thoughts, and cleared his throat, locking his gaze on the woman sitting before him. "Hannah," his voice dropped to a lower, almost secretive tone, "between us: show them what you’re made of. This case… it’s your chance to redeem yourself. Prove them wrong. Show them you’re a damn good detective, and they’ll realize what kind of agent they’ve lost." "You really don’t want me working here, huh?" she smirked, though something painful flickered in her eyes. "I don’t want you wasting your life here. Your father didn’t want that either." Hannah nodded, pressing her lips together. Every time her father was mentioned, it was as though she could feel his presence, his silent support. She understood Fowler was right; she needed to prove not only her competence but also meet the expectations placed on her. Her own expectations, most of all. And it had nothing to do with the FBI. A familiar gruff, disgruntled voice echoed from the office outside, loud and sharp. Hannah smirked, a touch of irony in her tone. "Hank’s managing without me. It’s only ten-thirty, and he’s already here." But there wasn’t any real joy in her voice. "Guess you're already having a good influence on him," Fowler replied, trying to diffuse the tension. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly exhausted, as if preparing for yet another difficult conversation. "Alright, send him in." Hannah slipped out of the captain’s office and made her way over to Hank’s desk. She moved quietly, like a shadow, blending seamlessly with the surrounding chaos. Her colleagues barely noticed her presence, their gazes sliding past as if she were just another fixture in the office background.   Which, in a way, she was.   Reaching Hank from behind, she gently touched his shoulder. The lieutenant sat slouched at his cluttered desk, piled high with paperwork and empty coffee cups, rubbing his eyes in a gesture of deep fatigue. "You're early today," Stone said softly, causing Hank to startle. He looked even more worn out than usual—his gray hair disheveled, his face covered in stubble that only amplified the air of perpetual exhaustion he carried. "Jesus, you trying to give me a heart attack?" he muttered, turning his head. His eyes, half-lidded and bleary, shot her a grumpy glare. "Don’t be so dramatic," she teased, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Your liver’s going to give out before your heart does. And it won’t be my fault." "Smartass," Hank grumbled, pulling her into a rough hug. His embrace was strong, though tinged with an awkwardness. Hank was never one for overt displays of affection, but it was clear he had missed her. "When did you get back?" "Late last night," Hannah replied with a soft smile, gently stepping back. Her eyes flicked over to Connor, who stood nearby, silently observing them. The android looked entirely out of place in the office, his perfectly pressed suit and polished appearance clashing starkly with the mess surrounding him—and with Hank, whose disheveled state only made the contrast more glaring. "I see you’ve got yourself a new partner," Stone remarked with a hint of irony, raising an eyebrow. "This one?" Hank threw a short glance at Connor and grunted. "Something like that." Connor, standing a few feet away, watched Hank’s every move with quiet intensity. His face was impassive, but there was a faint glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. "Well, now you’ve got two partners," Hannah added with a wry smile, already anticipating Hank’s reaction. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?" Anderson stared at her, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "Go see for yourself," she nodded toward Fowler’s office. "He’ll fill you in." Hank froze, clearly hoping she was joking or that he’d misunderstood. He scoffed at the thought, gave a quick, nervous nod, and let out a frustrated breath. "Great…" he muttered under his breath as he headed toward the captain’s office, adjusting his wrinkled jacket as he walked.   As if it wasn’t bad enough that he had an android tailing him everywhere, now they were sticking him with a babysitter too? What a fantastic start to the day. So much for coming in early.   Hannah remained by Hank’s desk, watching thoughtfully as he disappeared into Fowler’s office. Her mind wandered to how difficult it must be for Hank, working with Connor. Despite the android’s advanced abilities and knack for analyzing human emotions, for Hank, Connor was a walking symbol of everything he hated about the new world. And it wasn’t just fear of progress or prejudice.   Connor stood still, like a statue, intently observing the woman who seemed entirely unbothered by the android's presence. Every now and then, she glanced at him thoughtfully, offering him a seat, but he politely declined. From this angle, her desk was fully visible, every detail catching his attention.   “Well, looks like you’ve found yourself a new partner,” came Gavin Reed’s sarcastic voice as he strolled back into the office. “Careful, or you might get too attached to these plastic toys.” “Oh, don’t worry,” Hannah shot back, matching his sarcasm without missing a beat. “Unlike you, Connor at least knows how to do his job without constantly whining and screwing things up.” Gavin paused for a moment, his smug grin fading into an irritated scowl. Lazily, he made his way to his desk and shrugged off his jacket. “Funny,” he muttered as he sank into his chair, crossing his arms and letting out a low chuckle. “You turning on your 'defender of the tin cans' mode again?” Hannah sighed, her eyes momentarily leaving her terminal as she shot an annoyed glance in Reed's direction. “Just go to hell, Gav,” she replied, making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for their daily ridiculous banter. By now, no one in the office even paid attention to these exchanges. It had become part of the background noise: "Williams, send me the files on case number...", "Melanie, grab me a coffee while you're at it...", "Go to hell, Reed...". Hannah turned back to her screen, trying to catch up on the work she’d missed while on vacation, but everything was starting to blur. The numbers and letters on the monitor blurred into a shapeless mess. “Don’t pay attention to him,” she said calmly to the android standing beside her. “Reed’s just an insecure jerk.” “I am incapable of being offended,” Connor responded unexpectedly. “Detective Reed’s words cannot insult me. You needn’t worry.” “Yeah, I know,” Stone muttered, leaning back in her chair. “It’s just… Sure, you don’t feel anything, but that doesn’t mean people can treat you like crap. At the end of the day, you still gotta be human, you know?” “Not entirely,” Connor admitted, finally deciding to sit in the chair across from her. “Yeah…” Hannah waved it off, staring back at her screen. “Forget it.” Connor gave a slight nod, his gaze still fixed on the detective.   What did she mean?   Hannah’s words were stuck in his processor, disrupting his focus. For an android, everything was simple and logical, but in the human world, every gesture, every word could carry a multitude of meanings. What was the intent behind her words? Why did she react that way to Gavin Reed? Connor understood the facts, but not the emotions. And that bothered him, like a malfunction he couldn’t diagnose.   [LOADING FILE FROM DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT DATABASE] □ FILE ---------------------------------------           STONE, HANNAH ---------------------------------------    Date of Birth: 11/13/2014 ---------------------------------------    Education: — Wayne State University — Program: Criminal Law — Year of Graduation: 2035 --------------------------------------- — FBI Academy — Year of Graduation: 2037 Notes: Graduated with Honors ---------------------------------------    Internship and Work Experience: — FBI Office, New York — From: 10/05/2037 To: 04/10/2038 — Status: Transferred — Reason: "Information Unavailable" Report dated 04/07/2038 — Joined Detroit Police Department on 05/26/2038 --------------------------------------- ■ END OF FILE   Reed, slouched in his chair at his desk, shot another mocking glance at the android sitting across from him. His grey eyes burned with hatred, as if trying to scorch a hole through the machine. His legs, draped over the edge of the desk, swayed in rhythm with his dark thoughts. Not that he cared, but the idea of some damn machine thinking it was an equal pissed him off.   A tin can pretending to be a cop. These clunkers belong in the junkyard, not a precinct.   A police department full of plastic freaks—that’s where this was all heading. Gavin scratched his chin, fishing for the perfect snide remark. "Hey, Mr. Plastic Detective!" Reed called out loudly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're not here just to sit around with your new girlfriend and do nothing, right?" Connor turned calmly, his face remaining as unreadable as ever. "My task is to gather information and assist with the investigation, Detective Reed." Hannah, hearing the exchange, frowned. Her eyes flashed with anger as she looked up from her paperwork and shot a furious glance at Gavin. "Do you ever keep your stupid comments to yourself?" she asked icily, barely containing her irritation. "Maybe, for once, you could mind your own business and stop getting in the way of people actually trying to work?" Gavin smirked, but the smile held no warmth. "My own business?" He cast a glance at the pile of papers on his desk, then turned his gaze back to Hannah. "Maybe I’m just trying to remind you, Agent Stone, that humans work here, while tin cans belong over there." He gestured to the wall where the androids usually waited for their instructions. "Or maybe we should just give him his own desk while we’re at it?" Hannah sighed and rolled her eyes. Gavin Reed had two favorite topics: his colleagues, and how soon they’d all be thrown out of their jobs. No surprise, considering how sloppy his work could be. Reed’s clearance rate was solid, sure, but discipline? Not so much. Sometimes, Hannah — and not only her — wondered if Gavin’s real job was to be a thorn in everyone’s side at the precinct. And if that were the case, he excelled at it. Better than anyone. “If you’ve got a problem,” she looked at him with a mix of weariness and disdain, “take it up with the captain.” Reed snorted, catching a disapproving look from Tina Chen, his expression twisting in annoyance. “Oh sure, I’ll do that,” his voice dripped with sarcasm, not a shred of sincerity. “Just remember, when the tin cans start replacing us, I’ll be the first to say, ‘I told you so.’” Hannah shook her head and tried to get back to work, but when she caught the frown on the android’s face, she decided to take a break. “Connor?” she called softly, eyeing the android standing motionless across from her. “Yes?” “You want some coffee?” she asked skeptically, more out of politeness or curiosity, knowing full well that androids didn’t drink coffee. CyberLife had produced different models, and many could obviously mimic human behaviors and habits — both good and bad. But Connor was a detective model, and while his charm and friendly demeanor could be explained, drinking coffee was definitely not in his programming. "My functions don't include that, but I can keep you company while we wait for Lieutenant Anderson," Connor adjusted his tone effortlessly, creating the illusion of engagement. Meanwhile, Hank was waving his arms and loudly arguing with the captain. His angry outbursts could be heard even through the glass partition.   Another day, another argument—it was so frequent that it had become routine.   "Let's go," Stone stood up from her desk and walked across the office toward the breakroom. Connor, like her shadow, followed close behind. "Getting some alone time?" Reed jeered as Hannah passed by his desk. "Jealous?" she responded flatly, as if it were a practiced line, one she had to say. "Seems like you’re destined for alone time with only yourself." Gavin smirked, but anger flickered in his eyes. "Yeah, better with myself than with someone like you, Stone." The breakroom, strangely enough, was empty, and honestly, Hannah was relieved. She needed a moment to breathe, to gather her thoughts. Statistics show the first few days after a vacation are the most dangerous. That's when employees are most likely to quit, and though she wasn’t planning to leave, the temptation was real, especially right now. The paper cup warmed her fingers just enough, and even the burnt scent of the coffee brought some comfort. She inhaled slowly, letting the aroma fill every part of her being. Sitting across from her, Connor looked more human than before. He had mirrored her posture, folding his arms on the table, and though his eyes were synthetic, they held a semblance of something akin to curiosity. "May I ask you a personal question, Detective Stone?" His voice broke the silence, unexpectedly soft. "You may, but only if you promise me something," Hannah's lips curled slightly into a smile, her gaze softening as if she was searching for a trace of humanity in him. "What?" There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, and though he was just a machine, in that moment, it felt like someone who was genuinely trying to understand. "Call me by my name. No more 'Miss' or titles. Please." "Alright, Hannah," Connor nodded. Her name on his lips sounded like a vow, something sacred he now had to protect. "What did you want to ask?" Connor had planned to ask several questions for Stone’s profile, but he quickly realized that might not be appropriate. He had learned that much from working with Lieutenant Anderson. He needed to pick the most important one. "Why were you suspended from the FBI?" Hannah exhaled, slowly turning the cup in her hands. Her expression darkened, as if she were reliving the moment. "You’ve already read my file, so why ask?" "The reason for your suspension isn’t listed in the file, which is...odd," Connor’s gaze was fixed on her face, trying to catch every micro-expression. Hannah squinted, as if searching for what people call the 'window to the soul.' Connor's eyes should have appeared lifeless, glassy, but to her surprise, they didn’t.  They looked human. Should she tell Connor what really happened? Odd that the file didn’t mention the reason for her suspension. Everyone at the department knew the story, but Cyberlife probably had no clue. And why would they care, anyway? "You know, I’ll tell you another time," she grinned slyly. "That way, we’ll have a reason to sit together again." The LED on Connor’s temple flickered yellow, but his expression remained neutral. Still, something inside him shifted. "May I ask another question?" The android didn’t want to, but the words slipped out easily, as though he already knew she wouldn’t refuse. "Connor," Hannah smiled softly, "if you want to ask me something, just ask it. Don’t ask for permission to ask. It sounds weird." The LED flickered again, and for a moment, his gaze seemed distant. It felt to him as though the room had changed, as if with her smile, something new and unknown had entered along with it.  

[ERROR: 56##87]

  "Usually, people feel uncomfortable around androids, but your biorhythms and behavior indicate a friendly disposition. Why?" Connor tilted his head slightly, noticing the flicker of an error message. A system diagnostic would be needed later. Hannah shrugged and took a sip from her now-cold coffee. Her movements were relaxed, but there was something strange in her eyes—a mix of curiosity and warmth, emotions not typically directed toward androids. Her smile was soft, almost imperceptible, yet it was enough to give an impression of genuine friendliness. "I’m not sure," she said, as if pondering. "I find it interesting talking to you. Or is that not what you were asking?" Even Connor wasn’t certain what exactly the question had been meant to uncover. The response didn’t fill any gaps in Detective Stone’s file, nor did it offer more insight into the deviants, but Connor stored it in the same mental folder where he kept personal information from Lieutenant Anderson.  

Hank’s dog is named Sumo.

Hannah enjoys talking to Connor, the android.

  "And what the hell are you two just sitting around for?" Hank’s irritated voice boomed from the doorway, his cold, tense eyes lingering on Connor and Hannah.

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Chapter complete.

Saving… ■ [SAVE COMPLETE]