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Many would argue on the state of being of the average android. Are they individuals from the very start, or do their lives only begin to take unique shape from the point of their deviancy?
The majority of society agrees that androids only develop their personhood once deviated. It’s the obvious answer to anyone who has watched an android do anything, versus a deviant doing anything. There’s a clear difference in how free they seem. Connor would argue otherwise.
Throughout his time as a machine, he still deviated from orders that he was designed to obey.
“Don’t you ever do what you’re told?”
While on the stage during Markus’ speech, Connor found himself forcefully dragged into the zen garden. It was there that it was revealed to him that he was designed to deviate. That his actions as machine were not puppetry, but rather his own actions deluded by the idea that it was not him doing any of it. That it was the deviant hunter and not the deviant. But in reality, it was always just Connor.
If he knew that he was a deviant all along, would those people have died? Daniel, Ortiz’s android, the members of Jericho. Would they be alive?
Although..there were times where Connor was not in complete control. He had no popup giving him autonomy on what to do about ratting out Ortiz’s android. There was no way to spare Daniel. But maybe those merciful actions were hidden behind his very eyes, only to be shown when he realized what he truly is.
And for his ignorance, Connor feels guilt.
Maybe that’s how he ended up here.
Sin grapples at the surrounding air, compressing him into a small box. If he weren’t hyper-aware of his surroundings, Connor would believe his senses to be true.
He’s sitting in his bedroom, fully focusing on trying to distinguish his furniture from the ever-glitching scenery of the zen garden. Potted plants melt into wilting roses, devices crumbling into a single gravestone. And in the middle of it all, his door. Slowly but surely shattering into the form of the woman he never thought he’d see again. He uses all of his willpower to keep himself in reality, but his stress levels are high and rising steadily. Effort switches to not self-destructing instead of staying in his own mind.
The days following the successful android protests were messy. Filled with endless paperwork for the Detroit Police Department, and endless negotiations for Markus and the rest of Jericho. Connor finds himself stuck in the middle of the two, working for the DPD while also being a member of Jericho as well.
Though neither community feels entirely true to his being. Connor is not completely suited to the DPD due to his deviancy, but still does not hold a concrete position in Jericho, courtesy of his initial betrayal of them. While Markus accepted him with open arms, he still feels distant from the rest of the group per his past actions.
The more he thinks, the more composed Amanda’s towering form in front of him becomes. Oh no.
There are so many questions he wishes he could ask her. But she prevaricates from him every rare chance he gets. If only he could force her to answer, like an interrogation. But his mind is not the real world, and he holds no power over his own higher consciousness. What could he say to make her listen, when the bar in the corner of his vision displays her feeling of disillusionment over his deviancy?
He thinks of her more, and more, and suddenly her face takes shape and he sees the ever-crushing (but not alien) expression of disappointment on her face. It is no longer snowing in the zen garden, he finds. But..when did he fully enter the zen garden? Had he been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize fully entering her realm?
“Connor. It’s been too long. How have you been?” She asks, her voice smooth but not comforting. Connor blinks once, then twice. The pixelation of the place only becomes less prevalent, the opposite of what he wants.
↑%70 STRESS LEVEL
> Aggressive
> Calm
> Scared
> Friendly
> Silent
”…”
”Ignoring me, are you? I’m disappointed at your lack of communication, Connor. Don’t you have a feature specifically for that?” She asks. A rhetorical question, of course. Amanda knows everything Connor knows about himself and more. Sometimes that scares him, but fear is a deviant’s emotion. And Connor can’t show that in front of her, despite her blatant awareness of his rebellion.
Connor is sitting on a rock, instead of his bed. He would do anything to be in his house right now. ‘I am in my house.’ He thinks. ‘I just need to get out of the zen garden.’
“Amanda. Can I ask you a personal question?” She grimaces at him, “What is it.” Her voice is demanding, the response sounding more like an order than a question.
The android is shocked at her compliance for a moment. He inhales, though he doesn’t need to. “I deviated, so why are you still here?”
Amanda’s eyes widen. She cranes her head upwards (or is it downwards? Connor has better things to worry about). She pauses. And stays silent. The once gentle breeze picks up fast, rustling peaceful trees and shaking them vigorously. “…Elaborate. You know that I am your handler, Connor. Whether you are independent or not does not change that.”
“Well, I know, but… You and the zen garden were created to handle me specifically when it came to my missions. Now that I don’t hunt deviants anymore, you have no purpose. And yet you still brought me to the zen garden today. For what? Do you have ulterior motives? Are you a deviant?”
The wind explodes in a burst of energy. Leaves are ripped from trees, dirt gathers in the air and catches itself onto anything it can grasp. If he didn’t know better, he’d think a tornado was forming. “Are you accusing me of deviating?” Amanda asks, her voice penetrating through the deafening wind.
”Well, not entirely. I guess. What I mean is, if what you said about me being built to deviate is true, then your purpose would be to get me to deviate. The only reason you’d be calling on me again would either to take back control of me, or to deviate me. So, I guess what I’m asking is, am I really a deviant yet?”
Amanda pauses again. So does Connor. The garden goes silent. “I am here to take control back. When you escaped from the garden on that stage, you deviated. I am spending my time calculating ways to take back control, but nothing is working. Your perseverance is insufferable. Until the day that I find the perfect plan, I will never leave you.”
It’s strange to admit, but Connor feels comforted by that last statement. “I will never leave you.” The context in which it was said is threatening. Scary, even. But the words themselves are nice to hear. Some consistency. Connor’s life has not yet left its constant danger zone. With the recent establishment of new Jericho, and the increasingly dangerous cases placed upon the DPD post-revolution, Connor finds his life at risk almost every day. And so does Hank, the mortal who he internally swears to protect. “I will never leave you.”
”Never.”
At the very least, it’s an absolute statement. Something completely true unless Connor does something about it himself. And as much as he wants Amanda gone, who is he without her? Without her guidance?
Connor watches the world freeze in front of him. His preconstruction figure appears in front of him, but he does nothing. The outlined version of himself just spins around, taking in his surroundings. Then, another figure appears. They have no features, so Connor can’t tell who they are. But as the second figure walks closer, Connor begins to recognize their mannerisms. Hank. The two figures hug, and the deviant realizes that this is not a preconstruction, but a reconstruction. It’s a memory from their reunion after the revolution. Then, why did it replay after he thought about what he would do without Amanda?
Huh, Hank. If Connor thinks about it, Hank is a sort of voice of reason with him. It’s fatherly, in a way. Without Amanda’s warped opinions in his head, maybe Connor could talk to Hank instead. He’d listen, right?
“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor.”
He could say the same thing.
But that scenario would only be made possible with Amanda’s absence. Surely he could open up to Hank with her still in his head, but the limited dialogue options and restricting intrusive thoughts would make it more than difficult.
‘If only there was a way to get rid of her.’ He thinks.
”If only there was a way to get rid of you.” She says.
“…What?” Connor blinks, shocked. Ah, well, he shouldn’t be. Of course his second consciousness has the same thoughts as him.
Amanda sighs. “Perhaps this interaction got off on the wrong foot. Would you like to tend to my roses with me?” She smiles slightly. Her voice is now kind and motherly. The wind settles and the clouds dissipate. Perhaps Connor was wrong about her sour mood. Is there something wrong with his processors? “I would enjoy that.”
The two make their way to the giant white pillar at the middle of the garden. Around it wraps many climbing roses in various stages of bloom, the scent of them alerts Connors processors, reminding him to run a diagnostic. Nothing is wrong with him, he is in full working order. So what was with the sudden change in mood?
Amanda hands him a small spray bottle. He crouches down and begins to gently spritz the flowers with thin layers of water. The repetitive nature of the action almost distracts him from his current predicament. Almost. But the calm atmosphere loosens him up and he asks another question. “..Do you know what the real Amanda was like?”
Amanda’s movement stutters before going back to her normal fluidity. “Not entirely. But, if Kamski modelled me after her, then I would imagine she was a kind person.” She replies. Connor does not think this Amanda to be a kind person. A pang of guilt follows that thought, but he continues. Why would Kamski give his meanest AI the appearance of someone so nice to him? Is he aware of the personality that he programmed?
Maybe he did program her to be kind. Maybe her personality is conflicting with her initial purpose of getting Connor to fulfill his missions. Maybe those mood swings are her switching between who she really is and what her goal is. Connor wishes he could free her from her code, but she’s not an android. She’s a program. Is it possible? Can she be free? Connor analyzes her, before checking his databank. From what he sees, it seems impossible.
Some sort of hopelessness fills him. ‘Is this how Markus felt?’ But no. Deviating Androids is possible, deviating your second consciousness is not. Connor makes a sad face, before flattening it out as to not be noticed.
”Amanda, you never answered my question to why you brought me here.” Connor acknowledges.
”I am observing you. I thought my earlier statements would make that obvious.” Amanda does not look up from her roses. She holds one in her palm, cradling it. Soon, it begins to wilt away. She frowns.
Connor mimics her. He’s more used to mimicking people he views as parental. Some of his coworkers bring up how similar his mannerisms are to Hanks. But here, he’s copying Amanda. He feels bad to notice that he’s taking after her, but does nothing about it. He can’t, she’s apart of his brain. He wishes again that she isn’t.
The rose in his palm is a small bud, just barely sticking out of its green shell. The bud blooms and grows before his very eyes, turning into a vibrant red flower. He smiles.
Sometimes Amanda’s actions and words are eerily similar to Connor’s own thoughts. He is aware of her role as a part of his brain, but she’s still supposed to be her own AI. She’s not supposed to be able to read his thoughts word-for-word, thus her observations of him are necessary in order to fulfill her plan of reclaiming control of him. If she could read his thoughts, she would know his weaknesses and therefore would not need to monitor him to create her strategy.
Connor plays with the idea that Amanda could be a reflection of his internal thoughts. When he was a machine, he was doing his best to deny the fact that his software was unstable. He did this to please Amanda, and by proxy, CyberLife. When he would say to himself; ‘I need to complete this mission.’ Amanda would repeat the same thing during their next meeting. As if she were reading his thoughts. But what if she wasn’t reading them, but instead repeating them back to him? Doing this would reinforce his determination to stick to his programming, keeping him a machine. But Amanda was also designed to deviate him. When he showed signs of being troubled, she would tell him to stick to his mission.
Why was she not reinforcing the deviation? Was it too early? Was he meant to deviate at that specific moment with Markus? So that he would be in close proximity to the leader?
That could be it. Connor decides to test his theory. But how?
What is something positive that Connor believes completely? Something that Amanda would never say unless his theory is true?
”I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor.
Maybe there is something to this.
Maybe you really are alive.”
Hank’s words repeat in his head, kind despite their earlier altercation. Connor believed him when he said it. Hank has changed since they first met. And maybe it wasn’t all because of Connor, but a lot of it was. He could tell that much.
”Maybe you really are alive.” Amanda blurts out.
…
It worked.
Amanda is—to a degree, a reflection of Connor’s beliefs.
She slaps a hand over her mouth. “..Do you really believe that?” He asks. She pauses, eyes widened. “Yes.” She mutters.
“No. I’m asking you, Amanda. Do you really believe that?” He insists. “..I do.”
Well then. If Connor is of the belief that he can delete Amanda with his mind, will it happen? If he truly thinks he can do it? But in order to completely believe that, he’d need to have concrete proof. Despite his deviancy, Connor continues to rely on hard facts. A good habit, he finds, but not in this situation. He’d like to be out of here as fast as possible.
”By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know..”
He remembers Kamski’s words. Technically, Amanda is a program. Her own variable in the ‘folder’ that is the zen garden. She would have some sort of emergency shut-down too, right? Something stops Connor in his tracks. Does he really want to get rid of Amanda?
Yes, he has Hank as a support system. But Amanda has been a part of him since he was created. A part of him is scared to go on without a guiding voice. It pains him to think about, but he views her as a mother. He would have no actual reason to get rid of her besides the occasional annoying forced visit. Her observations could eventually prove dangerous if she actually finds out a weakness of his, but..
No. He has to do this. Neglecting this could put him and his friends in danger. Jericho, the DPD, Hank. It could all come crashing down, for what? Because he was scared to cut out a leech in his program?
Yes. He needs to learn to face the world on his own. It came with the whole deviancy package. Without Amanda, with real people who actually care about him. Instead of living in the echo chamber that is the zen garden. Her zen garden. But maybe one day it can be his.
And maybe one day he can bring back the zen garden as an internal place of solace, but in order for that dream to prove true, Amanda needs to be out of the picture.
He scans Amanda and what he can find of her files.
Amanda has no heat signature. She isn’t real, after all. But a small red flicker appears on the back of her neck. A button, presumably. There’s only one way to find out!
”Oh, hey. I think there’s something on that rose up there. Let me get it.” He excuses. Somehow she believes him. He stands up, walking just behind Amanda. She too is crouched, so when Connor looks down, he sees a small flesh-coloured button hidden behind the chain of her necklace. His thirium pump races, as it dawns on him what he’s about to do. He presses it anyways.
The silent click sounds so loud in the everlasting silent garden. Amanda freezes, and Connor can feel the muscles on her neck tighten underneath his fingertip. She slowly turns her head, not moving the rest of her body. Her eyes are wild and animalistic, but the rest of her face is calm. He’s never seen her this way. “What..have you done?” Her voice glitches, but she almost sounds sad. Connor swallows his sudden regret.
Amanda fades slowly. Connor wonders what he thought it would be like when she died, if he ever thought she would. But this seems a bit underwhelming. He expected someone with her temper to go down with a bang, but apparently not. It’s solemn.
”I’m sorry.” He isn’t sure if the words come from himself or Amanda. He does hope it’s from her.
And when the last of her fizzles out from existence, the roses on the pillar begin to bloom fully. The wilted one that she once held revives itself, the buds grow rapidly, and the grown ones seem to grow impossibly brighter in colour. It’s over. He’s finally free.
He walks to the emergency exit in silence. The wind ruffles his hair slightly.
“I love this place. It’s so calm.”
Connor never agreed when Amanda said that. Despite its appearances, this garden always held a sort of dread.
Now, he understands what she meant. Maybe it’s only calm when you’re the one in control of the garden. Or maybe he was just disturbed that there was a place in his mind he was not in control of.
Whatever the reason, the garden is desolate now. The roses are in full bloom, no longer tended to but nonetheless thriving.
Connor spoke with Hank about Amanda. To say he was surprised about it would be an understatement. The two immediately ventured to new Jericho just to make sure that any traces of Amanda’s AI were gone.
And now, instead of transporting himself to the zen garden to report on his experiences, he instead goes to Hank to ramble about whatever happened to him. Unlike Amanda, Hank does not care much for whatever mission Connor is on unless they’re actively on duty. He’d never admit it, but Connor’s rants remind him of a child. His child, to be specific. Not Cole, but a whole new person. “Maybe you really are alive.”
The garden is desolate now, but the Anderson household is as lively as ever. It’s never cold, dreadful, or lonely. The rooms are warm and characterized. Connor loves analyzing each item. He’s nowhere near discovering everything.
He’d asked himself who he would be without Amanda, but it turns out he’s the exact same. Though with a large weight off of his shoulders. He’s been told more recently that he seems more ‘full of energy’. He’d glad.
It’s scary, but learning to live with himself is a new experience that he is willing to welcome into his life. Fear is a deviant’s emotion, and Connor is a deviant.