//INBOX

[instabilitatem]

I am Connor. The android sent my Cybrerlife.

[text] [voice] [action]

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[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Connor’s words feel like a punch to Hank’s chest. Reminding him that the pain will always be there: the cycle of love and loss.]

I... thanks. But you know you’re special too, right? It’s just hard to explain what I was like after he was gone. And before then, even. I haven’t exactly been grateful for my time here on Etraya.

Although — [Sumo’s tongue lolls as Hank pets him] — I realize that’s wrong of me. Hell, I’ve known it this whole time. I know. Having you here, though, helps. It helps a lot, Connor.

[instabilitatem]

[Connor considers Hank's words closely, digests them before replying.]

That means a lot, Hank. I want to be able to help you.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Just having you here is plenty help. Getting to spend time with you. Make all these memories.

You’re kind, see? Indulging an old man’s weird whims.

[Like the trolley ride, even though Connor said it was something he wanted to do. But he could have gone alone, or with someone else — instead, he’s here with sad, rambling Hank.]

[instabilitatem]

[He's kind. Hmm. Connor had never thought of using that adjective for himself. People could be kind, but this is his programming, not an independent action.]

And if it's only my social relations programming?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

I don’t think anything about you is just your programming, Connor. [Hank’s voice softens as he says:] Even back when we first met. You’ve got your programming, sure, but you’ve always been you.

[instabilitatem]

You didn't like me very much when we first met, Hank. [There was perhaps a begrudging sense of amicability when Connor paid for another of Hank's drinks, but he wouldn't consider their first meeting to be one of friends.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

I know. And I’ve apologized for being an asshole. [Not that that makes up for anything, really.] But what I mean is that you were you, even then. CyberLife could’ve sent another android, but they wouldn’t be like you. Wouldn’t piss me off the way you did.

You’re special, Connor.

[instabilitatem]

It's not in my social relations programming to annoy anyone either. That may be hard to believe.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank smiles softly.]

You telling me they didn’t program you to be a wiseass who gets on my nerves, Connor?

[instabilitatem]

No. They didn't. But it seems to have happened anyway.

[Connor smiles over at Hank in return.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[That million watt smile...!]

See? You’re you. Always been you. Finding yourself along the way, just like the rest of us.

[And Connor will make that final push soon: Hank is sure of it. Because the alternative is, of course, unacceptable.]

[instabilitatem]

I suppose it would be easier for you if I was a deviant. [Not programmed to anything, more open to hearing and doing new things.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

In some ways, sure. Other ways, maybe not so much. But that’s...

I want you to be happy, Connor. And safe. Both. I don’t think I’ll get to see that unless you deviate.

[instabilitatem]

Likely not. But you do have influence over my decisions. Remember? You kept me from jumping the fence next to the highway.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

I do remember. But influence... that’s one thing. I want you to make those kinds of decisions — not jumping into a busy fuckin’ street — because it’s the right choice. Because you care about yourself. ‘Cause you know that others care about you and don’t wanna see you hurt.

Besides. [Hank shrugs.] I’m not exactly the best person to listen to.

[instabilitatem]

But you've reminded me that I have value. Several times in fact.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

You do. [Hank nods slowly, wondering if he’s walking into another miscommunication or if Connor believes what he’s saying.] And you... accept that, right? You aren’t just humoring me, right? Because you matter a whole damn lot, Connor.

[instabilitatem]

I believe that you feel that way, Hank.

[Connor nods, but he's phrased this very specifically.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Okay. [Hank gives a Connor a slack-jawed look.] The fuck is that supposed to mean? Because I know you aren’t saying that, what, I’m imagining your worth? Because we could swap the tables there, Con. Could say I don’t mean jack shit, either.

[Which... Hank wouldn’t disagree with, exactly, but that’s besides the point.]

[instabilitatem]

Hank, you're human and I'm... [That's honestly a tricky question right now. He feels like he's on the cusp of deviating, similar to the test at Kamski's.]

I'm not human. Humans have inherent value.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank wishes he could somehow show Connor everything that the Connor from his world experienced. Everything he saw. Because it doesn’t matter that Connor is an android. It hasn’t mattered for a long time.]

You matter to me. And I’m sure you matter to your friends from Solmara. You matter to — [despite the depressing subject matter, Hank can’t help the soft, sad smile on his lips] — Catdog. Giving him your food rations, yeah? What would he have done without that?

I’m not worth more than you just ‘cause I’m human, Connor.

[“Hell, I’m worth less,” Hank almost says. But he doesn’t want to divert the conversation toward self-deprecating nonsense again, even though it’s true.]

[instabilitatem]

[Connor listens to what Hank says, absorbs it, but the conclusion he still arrives at is,] Humans have inherent value. Even if you deny it.

[He pauses before he flicks his gaze back up to Hank.] I believe I told you of a hostage situation I diffused. I was sent in because the danger to a human would be too great. They were right. It was an incredibly dangerous situation. I was shot in a place that could be easily swapped out. A human would take surgery, possibly weeks of physical therapy.

I would not want you to be in such a situation.