Statistically Human

Human or Machine?

Hank was going to end it that night, he really was.

Work is a drag, and ever since his son Cole died his life has gone to hell and back. Alcohol has been the only thing keeping him sane, and even that couldn't kill him fast enough. Yes, Hank Anderson was going to end it that night... until he met Connor.

Damn the world for knowing just when to put a lovable character into his life. He couldn't let those kind brown eyes down, he'd probably scar the poor kid if he didn't show up tomorrow because he'd put a bullet in his brain. So instead Hank sighs heavily and sinks into his old couch in front of the tv, Sumo coming over to lay down on his feet. Hank gives him a pat on the head before grabbing the remote, turning on the tv and closing his eyes.

If he hadn't bought that damn coffee for the kid, he'd be able to do this in peace. But since he'd told himself he'd do one good thing in his life before he dies, here he is. Hank didn't know what about Connor made him agree to meeting up tomorrow, but he has a sneaking suspicion what it was.

Connor had seen the pain in Hank's eyes, had basically told him outright that he had seen it. But instead of giving him pity or trying to make things better, he offered to give Hank something to look forward to. Hank could see it in the kid's eyes too. Connor knows what pain is, knows how to recognize it.

Hank drifts in and out of sleep, his thoughts wandering and the sounds of the tv in the background. He hears the news lady on the television report another murder, only an Android and its owner at the house when it happened. Hank groans and sure enough, his phone buzzes on the side table.

"What a fucked up world we're living in Sumo,"  Hank says aloud. The large dog at his feet just huffs and shifts in order to get more comfortable. Hank opens his eyes, watching the tv flicker. "News is always bad nowadays."

He watches for a few more seconds before shutting it off again, getting off the couch and dragging his feet to bed. He really wishes it was Saturday and not Monday.

~•~•~•~

Hank walks into the Detroit Police Department the next morning, late as usual, greeted with glares and mumbled 'good mornings' by his fellow coworkers. He makes his way to his desk and sits down, getting ready to deal with the first case. Sure enough, the murder reported on the news last night is the top case file on his desk. Hank sighs and picks it up, flipping through it briefly.

Dana Horowitz
Age 21
Shot in her home by a PL600 model on December 7th, 2038. Android suspected of murder.

The file included details about the woman and the Android, and pictures. Hank sighs, closing the file, before getting out of his chair and making his way back to his car.

This is going to be a long day.

~•~•~•~

As soon as he can, Hank hops in his car and leaves his work for the night. He turns on the radio and runs a hand through his ashy hair, pulling out into the street and making his way home. He's got a half an hour before he has to meet Connor (he called off work early, not that he or anyone else minded) and Tim Horton's is a ten minute walk from his house.* That gives him about 20 minutes to get ready to go. Not that he needs that long to shower and put on warm enough clothing, but he'd been looking forward to getting off work.

As soon as he got home Hank did just that, showered and put on warm clothing, and made sure to put food in Sumo's bowl. He still has five minutes until he has to leave, but he decides to start walking now. Couldn't hurt to arrive a little early.

~•~•~•~

Connor puts his hands in his pockets, stopping in front of the Hard Rock Cafe where Hank had bumped into him yesterday. The man isn't here yet, but Connor's a little early. He decides to just wait, but he doesn't stand there long before he spots Hank walking across the street, giving him an incredulous look as he approaches.