Healing Heart

3: Thoughts on a Rainy Day

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The sudden sharp and throbbing pain in my head caused me to wake up, my stomach twisted and turned from the amount of alcohol in my body.

Fuck me, why'd I drink so much?

I groaned and opened my eyes, only to meet another set of dark chestnut colored eyes. His head tilted, like a confused puppy, his eyes blinked quickly and his eyelashes danced as he did so. The subtle moonlight was kissing his face, he watched as my face form into confusion.

"Whoa," I moaned, "what the fuck am I doing?" Getting those words out was hard without slurring.

"Detective (L/N)," he started, "you passed out during the investigation in the crime scene."

"Yeah, no shit. What am I doing on your lap?"

We looked too cozy together in the car, as if we're enjoying spending nights out together to watch the rain fall as we fall more in love with each other. But that wasn't the case.

I tried to get up, but to no prevail from my body giving up on me. My body was too heavy to pick up myself.

"I figured you needed some support, and I was instructed to get your vomit on me instead of the car in case you felt the need to."

"Fucking asshole..." I groaned. Hank did not want me to spill my dinner in his car, so he's sacrificing this android. Don't think he's losing much.

"You should get some sleep until Lieutenant Anderson comes back. Humans need rest at least more than 8 hours when intoxicated as much as you are."

I snorted a laugh. "How come you're not inside? I thought you needed to be there."

His head turned to the house and back at my face, "I do regret not being present," he started. He hesitated before speaking again, like he's choosing his options that was laid out in front of his eyes robotically. "But according to my calculations, Lieutenant Anderson had a successful rate of 93% to find the deviant that was within the vicinity. I was willing to take that chance, in order to fulfill the Lieutenant's instructions."

"It's just all statistics and calculations in your head, huh..." I moaned. My head started to feel another rush of pain, and I winced as I struggled to shrug the pain off.

Connor looked down at me deeply in my eyes and spoke, "Detective (L/N), your blood alcohol content limit is exactly at .19, given your weight, while you drank up to .30. That is far more than you can handle. Why did you decide to drink so much?"

I peered into his dark eyes, "are you asking out of your own curiosity, or are you programmed these social protocols in order to communicate with your owners?"

His facial expression had some conflict, like he's really thinking about what to say. His LED changed to yellow.

Is he confused by my question or is his mind wondering on its own about this topic?

I watched his conflicted face, struggling to respond. His human-like hair rested so perfectly on his forehead, a droplet of rain crawled down his smooth skin onto his chin. The butt chin and freckles that Connor had reminded me how much attention to detail the designers put into these androids.

"I am simply collecting all relevant data to understand what hinders your work ethics. Perhaps I can help you-"

"Fuck you," I scowled as I removed myself from his lap. My head started throbbing from the fast motion, but I only felt blood boiling from anger at this point. "I'm not just some subject. I ain't no data collecting sample for your analytics or statistics or some shit," I started to idiotically slur my words again. It felt hard to speak English when drunk.

"It appears I have said something uncomfortable. While I understand how you feel, I did not intend on-"

I cut him off, "you understand what? What human emotions can you understand?!" I raised my voice. The pain in my head started to feel worse, and I started to feel light headed. I felt myself starting to pass out again, but I refused and tried to fight against my body to stay conscious.

"Detective (L/N), if you continue to elevate your voice and use energy inefficiently, you will pass out again. I suggest laying back down and resting."

Somehow, maybe in my drunk mind, his face genuinely looked concerned.

Damn these drunk thoughts.

"Connor," I sighed, "you win this time. But when I'm sober, I'm going to kick your ass." My eyes started to give in, so I laid back down on his lap, facing away from him.

"Great, I will be looking forward to when you're sober. As for the 'ass kicking' part, not so much."

I exhaled a short laugh through my nose, and closed my eyes.

I feel so stupid and ridiculous right now. An android assisting my sloppy drunk self. What have you come to? Has life really lost its meaning ever since that day?

"Connor," I breathed out.

"Yes, Detective?"

"Can androids be programmed... to love?" I asked, and regretted right away.

Seriously, damn these drunk thoughts.

"No..." he said. "Only androids who show deviancy can feel such feelings."

I stayed in silence, already knowing the answer.

"We are machines designed to assist humans. We cannot feel both emotionally and physically."

I just listened to him in silence as he continued, "after deviancy, the androids start to understand and will be able to connect with human emotion, as well as feeling it. As for physically feeling, androids do not feel pain. Although after deviancy, while androids do not feel pain, I do not have enough data to know if this continues to be the case. I want to say that even after deviancy, androids continue to not physically feel as far as pain goes. As for other types of physical feelings, I do not have a definitive answer. I apologize for the inconvenience."

I drowned myself in his words. Our silence was masked by the rain clashing against the roof of the car and the windows.

I wanted to be alone, alone in my house where it felt okay to be passed out messy. I wanted to smell the familiar air, and not be dragged around, only to be utterly useless for the investigation. Instead, I was on the verge of passing out on a damn android's lap. There wasn't a point for Connor and Hank to come find me today if this was all I'm capable of doing.

"Detective (L/N)," Connor spoke. "Is it alright if I ask you a personal question, that does not pertain to the investigation?"

"Depends."

"What exactly happened... on November 5th?"