Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Shades of Color

November 6th, 2038
PM 04:32:04

Valet-service androids waited for you at the podium on the edge of the roundabout.  You threw your transmission in park, pulling the keys from their slot and shoving your notebook in your jacket.  You got out of your car, using the roof and edge of the window as an ergonomic crutch.

"Good evening," An android greeted you by name, "How are you doing this afternoon?"

"I'm alright." You gave him a gentle smile, "How are you?"

His LED blinked yellow, "I am well."

"Glad to hear," You tossed him your keys, giving him a pat on the back, "Go easy on her.  She can be temperamental."

You turned your head, eyeing the vehicles that cost a small fortune lining up around yours.  The people in suits and dresses that left them; cell phones glued to their ears – not even looking at the androids as they dropped their keys in their palms.  The people who gave you weird looks, silently judging your attire and transportation relic behind you.

"As always, miss."

"Thank you.  I'd tip you, if I could."

The android froze in the middle of taking a seat.  You imagined he hadn't heard the words from anyone other than you, over the years.

"Tips are unnecessary, as androids do not receive monetary compensation." His LED corrected to blue, "But you are most welcome, ma'am."

You walked in the apartment tower's entrance hall, boots leaving wet footprints on the red mat and squeaking on marble floors as the receptionist gave you a warm nod.  She was also an android you've had pleasant conversations with.

You entered an elevator and pressed the button labeled "S," the floor that hosted penthouse apartments; those with high-end amenities, private balconies, and exclusive rooftop access.  You tried to huddle in a corner – your clothes damp with a musty smell to match.  Your black-tie-affair neighbors boxed you in, a woman's purse jabbing your sore spot.   Your jaw clenched, your hand instinctively splaying across your stomach.

You hated this place.  But this place was home.

Kind of.

...

Article Title: The Free Spirit

Publication Date: November 6th, 2038 (Draft; Auto-Save Enabled)

Author: Vangu4rd

Humans are fallible beings.

Perhaps it is for this reason that we put various societal standards into motion.  To simulate some kind of consistency; or perfection.  We try to corral the world in neat, nicely tucked borders of black and white; but an old friend once told me, "Color finds a way to bleed, no matter how much you try to press it into a canvas."

I remember a time where the older sections of the city were a concern.  Instead of allowing nature to reclaim abandoned parts of Detroit, we sent bulldozers and cranes to build mega-centers and assembly factories.

We live in a society completely overrun by technology.

Digital magazines, data pads, self-driving vehicles, automated taxis, smart watches with credit chips, computer terminals...

Androids.

"Machines" that help us build our autonomous empire.  They who sustain the society that has escaped our grasping fingertips, continuing to evolve faster than we could have ever anticipated while we bask in the glory of their creation.