Every river has two banks

Riverside Park, 19:22 The Ambassador Bridge had always held a special kind of allure for her. Since Detroit’s heyday, it seemed to connect two different worlds, separated by the abyss of the river that shared its name. On one side lay the high-society city; on the other, an alley with battered benches and a coffee shack, where a half-broken claw-bot handed out tasteless sandwiches. This very place had earned the title of "favorite" for only a few reasons: the magnificent view, the always fresh and sobering wind, and a pretty decent coffee at a reasonable price. An inconspicuous girl sat on one of those weathered benches, her detective ambitions now a distant, dead weight. The entirety of her past life had been left behind right there. Her gray hooded sweatshirt offered no warmth, and she tried in vain to keep warm, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. The sound of the waves drowned out the familiar footsteps behind her, while the roar of thoughts in her head blinded her to the past. Yet, it was already approaching with its quiet stride, ready to tear open unhealed wounds. Soon, it would make itself known — politely and understandingly. The most advanced android in existence walked leisurely toward the coffee shack standing near the bench. RK900’s mission was utterly simple, even demeaning: deliver coffee to Detective Reed, who was somewhere around the corner, fighting a losing battle against sleep in his car. While the claw-shaped barista fumbled with the coffee, Richard scanned the waterfront. Just a couple of dozen meters away, he caught a woman's silhouette. Within a fraction of a second, his systems ran an analysis: his former partner. He could only see her back and a dark chocolate-colored ponytail whipped by the wind. This information would have been insufficient for a human, but for this android, it was more than enough. As the scan of the motionless human object finished, the hand reaching toward the coffee pickup window froze. In all of his existence, the android had never deviated from a direct order. He was a machine to his very core and had always executed tasks flawlessly. But not this time. The synthetic detective decided to delay his return to his partner, who was waiting for another dose of caffeine. No big deal. He could wait. His body turned, as if possessed by a will of its own, separate from the processor. The task "return to the car" was put on pause. The android stared at the bench, contemplating his strange desire to approach, say hello, and ask how she was doing. This wouldn't cause a critical system crash, would it? A minor deviation, nothing more. For the first time, Richard shifted his priorities: his partner's order yielded to his own desire. A slight glitch caused the LED on his temple to flash crimson for a fraction of a second. A momentary, non-critical flash. He was programmed to obey, to unconditionally execute any order, yet this time he disobeyed. The system was searching for a logical explanation for its host's irrational behavior, while his legs were already carrying him toward the bench where the shadow of the fragile girl sat frozen. The desire to see her again had become comparable to executing an emergency mission. Irrational. It shouldn't be like this. He needed to sort this out as soon as possible, and he would. But not right now. Later. The android approached from behind with quiet but firm steps, careful not to startle the lost-in-thought human. The LED on his temple blinked several times as he pondered the best way to initiate a conversation. Taking his final steps, Richard stopped right in front of her. Cold gray eyes finally met blue ones. "Hello, Kira," he said, his voice carrying something that could be mistaken for anxiety, though he himself remained as serious as ever. There was a genuine curiosity in this simple greeting, making it clear it wasn't just a routine courtesy. "How are you?" Their paths had diverged the moment her resignation letter landed on Captain Fowler's desk. At the same time, the android couldn't deny feeling a certain residual connection, as if they were still part of the same team. "Richard?" The girl's eyebrows shot up. Sitting on the furthest bench by the river, she hadn't expected to see her former partner in such a secluded spot. Especially at such an inconvenient moment. The unexpected encounter caught her off guard, forcing her to abruptly drop her feet to the ground and hurriedly wipe away her running mascara with her palms. Kira crossed her arms over her chest, adopting a defensive posture. "Of all the people, my former plastic partner was the last one I expected to see here." She couldn't help but notice how his cold gaze caught the movement of her hand wiping the mascara across her cheek. It only made her feel more self-conscious. Those gray eyes seemed to notice practically everything, and at times, they could look straight into one's very sinful soul. God only knew how many thousands or millions of processes were running in his head at moments like this. Richard, holding a coffee cup identical to the one the girl had tossed into the trash forty minutes ago, looked down at it. After a mere second of consideration, he extended it toward her. "You should warm up. The air temperature is quite low for a human dressed in such light clothing." The words, laced with a certain care, sounded like an offer that couldn't be refused. The android ignored the somewhat unexpected passive-aggressive jab. The nickname "plastic partner" was far from the most insulting thing he'd been called. During his time with the Detroit Police Department, RK900 had been called just about everything. Detective Reed, for instance, still hadn't bothered to learn his name, preferring "toaster" or "plastic prick." Richard didn't care about such trifles. He was created for a single purpose, and words, much like feelings, were nothing but noise to him. "Thank you," she snapped dryly, immediately pressing the cup to her lips. Eagerly inhaling the scent of over-roasted Arabica, Kira felt the warmth spreading through her body once more. The android's gesture warmed not only her freezing hands but also her icy heart. During his time working with humans, he had already memorized every single taste preference of his partners down to the smallest detail, since fetching coffee from nearby vending machines or cafeterias was practically his primary duty at the precinct. By a fortunate coincidence, Detective Reed’s and Kira’s tastes aligned. Richard genuinely couldn't comprehend why humans would deliberately poison themselves with gallons of coffee, risking their health, instead of allowing their bodies a full eight hours of restorative sleep. Throughout all his time cooperating with humans, this question had remained without a logical answer. Despite the cup of hot beverage in her hands, the android registered the girl flinching from a gust of wind and, without hesitation, removed his signature black-and-white jacket. Under her questioning gaze, Richard stepped closer and carefully draped it over her shoulders. The thick synthetic fabric, impervious to both moisture and air, proved to be an excellent thermal insulator. "You're as attentive as always," Kira mumbled, wrapping the jacket tighter around herself. For a moment, she buried her nose into the collar, and the scent instantly threw her back into the past. It was a complex, painfully familiar cocktail: leather, the woody air freshener from Reed's car, cigarette smoke, and, faintly, the aroma of a cherry pit. It was strange that her favorite perfume still lingered on this jacket. It seemed a single bottle had been left rolling around in the glove compartment of Reed’s SUV. Whenever she stepped out into the open air from premises where human bodies had been decomposing for several days, or even weeks, Kira would immediately douse herself in eau de toilette. Leaving houses that had become someone’s tomb, she always felt as though the stench of rot and decay clung to her in a thick layer. In all those years, she had never been able to get used to it. You couldn't get used to something like that, no matter how hard you tried. "Do you miss detective work?" Richard stepped back a couple of paces, crossing his arms over his chest. He followed her gaze, staring at the exact same spot on the horizon. A simple question with no simple answer. Kira tore her eyes away from the river, shifting her gaze to the android's profile. He looks exactly the same... perfect, the thought flashed through her mind. A gust of wind dislodged a stray lock from his otherwise flawless hair, giving him a barely noticeable, disheveled look. On his temple, the LED flickered as usual, making her wonder what kind of processes were running in his head. When cold gray eyes met blue ones once more, Kira realized the android was still patiently waiting. The answer was needed not only by him, but by herself as well. "The police department isn't for people like me, Ricci. I turned out to be too weak," her voice carried a deep pain, backed by a sincere belief in her own words. Everything beyond this bench had lost all meaning. Absolutely nothing mattered to the former detective anymore. Neither the wind whipping her hair nor the past that had crept up unnoticed reminded her of former failures and unfulfilled ambitions. The declaration of her own weakness triggered a dissonance within the android's system. Distrustful? Yes. Cautious? Undoubtedly. But in his understanding, she was not weak. Throughout their entire partnership, Richard had never registered any signs in her behavior that could be classified as weakness. Listening closely to the fractured voice, Richard decided that the human required a basic level of empathy in this situation and initiated a standard support protocol. "Everyone has their weaknesses," the android replied. His voice was as calm and confident as always, just like the machine himself. "But they do not define us. What matters is how we deal with these difficulties." He was curious to know how much her life had changed, how she was finding herself in this new world. But he didn't ask. Now was not the right time. Kira simply nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. She had nothing to add. This android always said the right things, which was more than could be said for humans. The silence that settled between them was not heavy. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Back when she was still a trainee under Detective Reed, the girl had often been reprimanded by her colleague for unauthorized excursions and actions outside of protocol. Reed frequently called some of her actions "imbecility, not bravery." The price for such actions in their profession was too high, and sooner or later, Kira would have to pay for her exaggerated sense of justice. And she had paid. "You just came here to think about something, didn't you?" His head turned slightly toward the river, hinting at whether his former partner might be planning something irreversible under the weight of her somber thoughts. What thoughts are consuming you... Detective? he added to himself, emphasizing the last word while knowing perfectly well that Kira no longer held that title. "Lieutenant Anderson showed me this place once," the girl swallowed the lump in her throat that paralyzed her speech at the mention of her late colleague. "On my first day of training, I messed up big time, which earned me a minute of shame at the precinct. Hank became the unwitting witness to my moment of weakness back then." The girl offered a faint smile, recalling the bewildered look on the face of the grumpy old man who had found her crying in the locker room. It had been quite a pathetic sight. But instead of more ridicule or reproach, she had heard a gruff, "Pack it up, kid, let's take a ride," as the lieutenant motioned toward the exit. "Sitting right here on this bench one freezing evening, he told me interesting facts about Detroit. He was born and raised here, so he knew a lot about this, as he put it, 'sinful' city." Talking to the lieutenant had been surprisingly easy, and they had found common ground quite quickly despite the vast age difference. Hank used to say that this place helped him clear his head and think away from the bustle of the crowd. Now, the girl would come here from time to time, but without her gray-haired companion. "For instance, did you know that the Detroit River is 24 nautical miles long?" the former detective asked the android, who turned his torso toward her, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Richard sensed she was beating around the bush for a reason. Whenever things were difficult for her, she always answered indirectly. At first, it had been hard for him to get used to her manner of answering a question with a question or pointlessly changing the subject. This quirk used to interfere with his analysis, preventing him from getting to know her better and finding the right approach. "Of course I knew," he smiled involuntarily. His voice sounded patronizing, considering she had asked about something so elementary. It even seemed to him like a rhetorical question that required no answer. Was there actually anything in this world that this advanced android didn't already know? As it turned out, plenty. Suddenly, the glass overflowed, and the sunset landscape blurred once more. She turned away so that the android, standing just a step from her, wouldn't see his former partner—the one who used to brandish a service weapon—bawling her eyes out now. "Kira, you are not alone. You have support," Richard stepped closer, trying to catch her gaze. Hearing this cliché phrase, the girl even offered a faint smile. Caring little that a couple of traitorous tears had managed to roll down her cheeks, carving dark tracks of eyeliner and mascara, she turned her face to her companion and froze for a moment. He stood almost flush against her, appearing so... real, so alive right now. The wind had tousled his brown hair, and the stray lock dislodged from his hairstyle would surely be tickling a human forehead, but it caused him no discomfort whatsoever. His eyebrows—one slightly unruly compared to the other—were raised, creating a few creases on his forehead. "On the contrary, Richard. I am completely alone," the girl confessed, her eyes locked onto her never-freezing, never-tiring former partner. And at that exact moment, she realized there had been something more between them than just work. Perhaps they were bound by a shared resilience against Reed's mockery, which they had been forced to cope with not only apart, but together. The short-tempered detective could never accept the fact that he had been assigned a trainee, and an android to boot. At first, both Kira and Richard paid the price daily for something that was neither of their faults. It wasn't their doing that the proud Detective Gavin Reed "worked alone" and hadn't signed up to be a babysitter to some "pipsqueak and a toaster." As the saying goes, "misery brought them together." Reed's attacks left the android neither hot nor cold, but seeing the distressed state of the girl, who caught twice the grief, he often tried to cheer his partner up. Just as this mysterious bond between the two partners began to strengthen, their paths abruptly diverged. The thin thread that snapped all too quickly had never been given the chance to harden. Who knows how things would stand between the two of them now. She would have really liked to find out. The wind continued to whisper quietly around them, and the evening sun enveloped them in its barely warm rays, retreating further and further beyond the horizon. Kira lowered her gaze to the coffee cup, offering a sad smile. Only now did it dawn on her that this coffee had never been meant for her in the first place. "Did Reed send you for coffee again for the hundredth time today? How is he, by the way? Probably glad there's no annoying trainee fluttering around him anymore." She said this with a sad, bitter smile, knowing full well that her presence had been a thorn in Gavin's side. It had always been easier for him to work alone, a fact he reminded everyone of at every opportunity. She had caused her senior partner so much trouble that his resentment came as no surprise. The android, for his part, took the question seriously despite her smile. "I wish to assure you," he said in a confident tone, "Detective Reed misses your cooperation with him." Those words caught her completely off guard. Kira frowned, wanting to ask him to repeat it just to make sure she hadn't misheard. "Although he does not demonstrate it directly, my human behavior analysis system allows me to conclude with ninety percent certainty that Detective Gavin Reed is experiencing nostalgia." Believing such a thing was as difficult as believing in the existence of aliens on Earth. Was it even possible for Gavin to be capable of such feelings? The girl decided to double-check anyway, just in case the hypothermia was making her imagine things. "Nostalgia, you say?" she said with unconcealed irony, yet a hint of warmth could still be heard in her voice. "Who would have thought." "Yes, exactly," he confirmed with a nod, his gray eyes impossibly full of conviction. "Your work was important to the detective, despite the fact that he did not show it." Richard offered a slight, awkward smile, emphasizing the positive element in a conversation about a less-than-pleasant person. "I can judge this by how frequently he recalls your shared moments." Is there a single thing in this world that wouldn't irritate Gavin Reed? She kept that question to herself. No matter what Kira did, no matter how hard she worked, everything was absolutely wrong. ...how the hell are you holding that gun? Planning to shoot our own people?! ...did they teach you anything at all in the academy? Moron. ...where do you think you're going! I told you to stay behind me and wait for my command! ...why are you just standing there? Need a special invitation? Or should I do everything myself? She involuntarily began to replay random moments of their joint work in her head, but she couldn't recall a single pleasant thing. Kira seriously began to wonder if she was being toyed with. Throughout her entire time working with him, the young detective had never once received a kind word from Gavin. He had never expressed even the slightest joy about working together, so believing that the hardened detective actually missed their cooperation was deeply... shocking. "Sounds too good to be true," the girl let out a sarcastic chuckle. Richard understood perfectly well how implausible it sounded, but he wouldn't take his words back. He was certain of what he was saying. Gavin, though possessing a complex character, was not entirely impossible to figure out. And deciphering humans was one of the "favorite" activities of all the nine-hundreds at the precinct. Humans were often given away by their body language, which they found difficult to control. Detective Reed, despite being a difficult person, was not immune to human nature. A sense of closeness arose between the former partners once more, just like in the good old days when they used to discuss Gavin. Together, it had been much easier for them to withstand the often aggressive detective. "Perhaps you should text him, or at least stop by the precinct?" Richard suddenly suggested. "I'll think about it," she drawled hesitantly in response, feeling how the mere thought triggered tachycardia in her chest. If Richard was mistaken in his conclusions, it would be quite a fiasco. Unfortunately, her memories of Gavin were not filled with warmth, as is usually the case with partners who have been through a lot. She felt nothing toward him. No nostalgia, no joy, no longing. Absolutely nothing. He had crushed her and squeezed her dry like a lemon, and her hatred toward him had simply devolved into apathy. What a son of a bitch, she thought to herself, laughing at the realization that he might actually miss her. He never gave me a break, pretended he couldn't stand the sight of me, and now he's quietly whining. Richard immediately registered the smile on the girl's face. Just like in the old days, he had managed to pull her out of the pit of sadness and frustration. "I am glad you will think about it," he said. "Sometimes it is worth reminding people that they are important to us." Kira nodded, feeling how this brief conversation had significantly lifted her spirits. Right now, she needed this more than ever. It was as if fate had intentionally sent her exactly who she needed in a moment of utter despair and loneliness, even if it was in the form of an android. Richard fit the role like no one else. Over the course of the evening spent by the river, the wind had badly tousled the girl's hair. Strays that had escaped her ponytail kept getting into her eyes and sticking to her glossed lips. The evening sun was sinking rapidly past the horizon, offering its final rays as if hinting that it was about time to head home. Right now, the former partners' attention was locked onto an unusually beautiful sunset. This evening, it seemed especially breathtaking and appeared to have a hypnotic effect even on the android. It felt as though they could spend an eternity here, enjoying the scenery in comfortable silence, but all good things must come to an end. Richard's LED flashed yellow, signaling an incoming message:  

Did you rust on the way or what? 

Where's my coffee, prick?

  Realizing that he had been distracted from his initial task, Richard instantly straightened up, and his face became serious once more. "I am afraid I must go," he said with a hint of regret. "It was good to see you... Detective," he added, emphasizing their past cooperation. Cold gray eyes and blue ones tore away from the fading sunset and met once more. A moment hung between them that felt like an eternity, and in it, they both felt the invisible thread of their special bond tighten again. At least, that was what each of them desperately wanted to think, looking into the eyes opposite them. "Until next time, Richard." Her eyes, now dry from tears, watched closely as the android offered a nod before turning to leave. She stared intently as Richard walked away with measured, mechanical steps, never looking back. Somewhere deep down, she wished he would break that flawless protocol—turn around suddenly so their eyes could meet once more, just like in the movies. But, unfortunately, life is not a film. Though it holds plenty of drama. Leaving the pier, the android "felt" his synthetic heart fill with a mixture of the sadness of parting and the hope of a future meeting. Androids did not experience emotions—they merely simulated them to perfection. Yet in extremely rare cases, such "emotions" could generate conflicting commands, rendering the machine unpredictable. Was this one of those cases? Richard decided that simulating sadness was currently the most appropriate response to the situation. It was the first thing that logically associated with leaving the waterfront. Since his code lacked even an indirect task to attach feelings to specific people, he initiated the command himself: bind this pattern to his former partner. The LED blinked red twice. The system resisted, refusing to deviate from the sequences designated by the operating system. In search of a workaround for the standard instructions, the processor temperature rose slightly.

 

[ERROR | Unknown protocol]

Behavioral pattern playback paused Adaptation system failure —

Troubleshooting…

Restart pattern with saved changes?

«Yes/No»

  The android concluded for himself: the special bond between them still existed, despite all the changes in their lives. He had not had enough time to study his colleague well enough to construct a precise approach strategy. The main obstacle had been Detective Reed, whose constant presence suppressed the emotional tone of their shared partner. The only thing Richard could latch onto was their fleeting conversations about Gavin’s foul disposition. In those rare moments, he could analyze at least something regarding the personality, emotional intelligence, and true temperament of Detective Kira Wainwright. But it was not enough to fully complete the adaptation process. Now, Richard had an opportunity to resume the unfinished process to finally decipher his former colleague completely, but this was fraught with system errors and risks associated with bypassing protocols. He was not certain of the correctness of his actions, deviating from the standard rulebook. The most sound decision would be to terminate their communication once and for all and halt the incomplete adaptation processes. They were still "hanging," as if the two of them were still working together. They needed to be closed out so they would stop looming in his daily summary logs, yet something had kept him from doing so until now. What Richard intended, as he continued his way toward Detective Reed's car, was risky. Would it be worth it? Did he truly want to figure out what exactly was keeping him from letting her go? It seemed Richard knew the answer even before he asked himself these questions. And that answer led to a software instability.

[ERROR | Unknown protocol]

Behavioral pattern playback paused Adaptation system failure —

Troubleshooting…

Restart pattern with saved changes?

«Yes/No»

 

***

The wind grew harsher, a blunt reminder that the day was behind them. The sun had finally vanished beneath the horizon, giving way to the night. Left alone, Kira could still feel the "warmth" of her former partner's presence. She pondered how drastically her life had changed and how pleasantly surprising it had been to see Richard. The girl returned once more to the thought: Maybe I really should stop by the precinct? It wasn't hard to picture the scene: she walks into the department carrying a cardboard coffee tray, greets her former colleagues, asks how they are doing, and then... Gavin appears. He would undoubtedly unleash a barrage of sarcastic remarks and mockery, ruining her mood for the rest of her days. Utter nonsense. I have no business being there, with these thoughts, Kira stood up abruptly from the bench and was just about to head to her car when she heard a rustle. Sliding off her shoulders and falling onto the damp ground was the black-and-white jacket, the back of it sporting the designation "RK900" beneath a neon blue triangle. The girl hadn't even realized that she had been staring at his retreating back, clad now only in a black shirt. Richard had left so hastily that he forgot to take it. He never forgets anything. Carefully picking the jacket up from the ground, Kira gently brushed away any stray dirt and stared at the white collar. She traced her thumb lovingly across it, as memories flashed through her mind of how Richard would often tilt his head to the side in curiosity, leaving faint, barely visible horizontal creases on either side. The girl buried her nose in the coarse fabric once more, trying to catch the scents the garment had absorbed. The persistent aroma of tobacco, a leather interior, gunpowder, and a faint, subtle bitter note of cherry pit. Better not linger here, or I'll end up down with a cold for a couple of weeks, with a swift motion, the girl draped the jacket over her shoulders; its length completely covered her backside. The outerwear of an android who stood nearly two meters tall could easily pass for a dress on her. He didn't forget it at all, she looked back toward the direction where his masculine silhouette had long since vanished. He simply left a reason for us to meet again. A genuine smile spread across her tear-stained face all on its own. Hooking her fingers into the lapels of the jacket, the girl pulled it tighter against her body so the gusts of wind wouldn't blow the garment off her shoulders. The refreshing river air had cleared her head well enough. Now it was time to go home; a good night's sleep would be very welcome. The former detective of the Detroit Central Police Department wanted to look more or less presentable tomorrow morning, as she suddenly had plans for the upcoming day: the decision had been made after all. Defying her own doubts and fears, she planned to stop by the precinct tomorrow.