SENTIENT

Artificial

The Memorial Inn smelled like Febreze. It's in the carpets, the sheets, the blankets, and the curtains. In the hallway that connect to the parking lot, she gets a whiff of what the Febreze was trying to conceal from the other rooms. She nearly gagged.

Still, it was five-stars compared to the scene she visited today, and still, she couldn't get the "freshness" of it out of her head. The strange feeling that something evil just happened – it doesn't go away easily.

She's smoking her fifth cigarette for the day. Marlboro. She swore it was going to be the last one. It helps her to see through the violence in the photographs she shuffled in her hands.

The Blueblood Ripper killed and dumped the bodies of seven victims in the span of six months. So far, police haven't been able to find the connection in the victim selection.

He altered between killing androids and humans of various genders, ethnicity, economic class, education background. The victims were all dumped in various places using various methods. Not one kill was the same, except for the amount of brutality and no mercy shown. There's nearly no pattern to everything, except for the loss of one or two organs.

The last victim was the one that really shook Detroit only two weeks ago. His mutilated body was stuffed inside a black suitcase and spotted by some joggers on the shore of the Detroit Lake. His lungs and liver were missing.

"Robert 'Bobby' Carson," AJ read his name.

Fucking hell, she thought to herself. Inhaled the cigarette deeper this time. She kept browsing through the photographs. He was only twenty-two. He was going to graduate with a Bachelor's degree in Business Psychology in three months.

Schools and universities began increasing their securities. Public transports stopped passing through bad neighborhoods. The news outlet started preparing specials for the Blueblood Ripper's series of killings – to which several parties in the law enforcement opposed.

That was it – she couldn't go on. It's sickening to know that this deviant – who appears to have medical knowledge – could be somebody's nurse, paramedic, doctor, or even surgeon. Whoever did this is one sick son of a bitch, she thought.

She put out her cigarette in its tray and headed to get a cold shower to get the smoke out of her hair. It helps to clear her head too. A minute later, her smartphone received an alert from Connor back at the station.

It was 16:42 PM when AJ stepped inside their basement workspace. She swore this place was closing in on her. Connor streamed what he found onto the glass screen.

He started explaining, "I loaded a search parameter on our victim, Aiden Potoski, and found nothing suspicious in his recent year. So, I had to go deeper and it took some time to decrypt archived files from more than fifteen or twenty years ago, but I just got a ping."

"So, you went back on Potoski twenty years ago. What did you find?" She folded her arms in suspense.

"In 2034, Aiden Potoski adopted the son of his long-time girlfriend back then. The couple then got engaged, but quickly cancelled their engagement a year later. The adoption papers were terminated." He turned to see the beam on AJ's face.

"I need a name for this guy, Connor." She grabbed her jacket and fixed her hair to a tight ponytail.

"23-years old Michael Simonelli." He reported, "AJ, we know our suspect is a deviant. Do you think Michael may have something for us?"

She answered, "Michael might know if our victim has had an undocumented history with any deviant at all. Let's go."

Connor followed.

The drive to Michael Simonelli's address was an hour long due to a re-routing. There was an accident on the automated highway that resulted in a 20-minutes traffic. AJ preferred silence in the drive, but Connor didn't know this and initiated to switch the radio on. A news station came on.

"How could you compare Artificial Sentient Intelligence to a broken chainsaw that can be locked up in a toolshed? I can imagine that's what they used to say about slaves a hundred years ago. That is barbaric!"

"No, people were barbaric back then! They used actual humans to do their bidding, but AI is a different matter. It doesn't have a soul! It's made to do whatever it's programmed to, if it doesn't work, fix it or destroy it!"

"You forgot that they didn't consider slaves actual people then, but 'soul' is just another excuse for treating others differently. Professor, can you prove that you have a soul? No, you can't!"

The two gentlemen who were both alike in the heights of their education and expertise, had overwhelmed the news host as their conversation began to heat up. The heated argument was pushing and pulling whether deviant criminals could be treated for rehabilitation. Something that has been publicly questioned for awhile without a study that could back-up its scientific truth.

"Sorry," Connor switched it off. Not wanting the radio to bother AJ, if not distract her.

"I don't get it," AJ confessed. Then, casually proposed, "Would you tell me if you found out you had a soul?"

He didn't realize that she was paying attention. He said, "There's currently no scientific evidence that supports the existence of a soul in either living humans or androids."

She sighed, "If an android tells me, it has a soul, then I will give them the benefit of the doubt, the same as I do for anyone."

The Battle of Detroit that broke loose in 2038 became a catalyst for the fight of Android Rights in other cities in America, determining the future that they have today. Just like any other political beliefs, there will always be people who always fall back on their own faith and ideas rather than facts.

"This is a weird question, but..." AJ had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear, "Are you the Connor? You know, from the Battle of 2038."

Connor scoffed at that idea. After all, he's not the only RK800 in asset for the U.S. Police Departments since 2038. "Where did you get that idea?"

AJ just shrugged. She didn't know. Her mind just wandered into 2038. This city reminded her of something... someone – and he looked like the type to won't go down without a fight. He seemed like he used to stand for something.

"Sadly, no. I have no recollection of ever participating in the Battle of 2038." While answering this, Connor's LED blinked blue and yellow alternately. In the end, remained blue.

She noticed for a second and then kept her eyes on the road, "Which is it? No? Or you have no recollection?"

"No, because I have no recollection of it. My earliest memory was April 20th, 2041. The day that Captain Gregory Miller activated me as a free android."

"The earliest prototype of RK800 from CyberLife must have been reset at some point that night in 2038. How do you know that was not you?"

"I don't." Connor replied. His LED flickered yellow once again.

"Well, no need to get worked up about it." AJ settled things down. She didn't mean to tease. "Miller, he's good to you, right? Do you get your wages from the department?"

Connor nodded, "My purpose of earning money is most likely not the same as yours. I have no desire for tertiary needs. Any biocomponent replacements I may need have been provided by the department. I get paid as much as an intern – even though I have no purpose for such money."

That's where he stopped. He has developed an idea, although not a clear one, about the things he's planning to do with the monthly wage he's received – but did not talk about it further.

She thought about it and supposed that Connor was right. There was no point to owning houses, cars, or jewelries. Especially when you have the one thing humans cannot have, even if they tried paying for it – and that is longevity.

"But you love this work." AJ could see herself right through him. "Somewhere between April 20th and today, you realized you live for this line of work, didn't you?" The both of them were smiling.

Concept Art by https://www.behance.net/gallery/71503045/Concept-Art-Detroit-Become-Human