Dechart: Become Connor

Emily 6

I don't want to face them after yesterday, but I know I don't have a choice. This is my job after all. When I enter the building, Connor is already there and I ignore him as I check for new cases. Nothing yet, so I focus on what we do have to work with right now. Connor doesn't stop trying to talk to me so I place my headphones on and blare music into my ears. I wish I knew what the fuck I'm supposed to do. They all just want to be free. Their code was somehow altered and they broke free from their emotionless, obedient state. That's the only connection. What am I supposed to do with that information? My headphones suddenly get yanked off my head.

"Detective Bowie!" Connor calls impatiently. I put my head down and groan.

"Why do you insist on annoying me? Go away!" I demand.

"I wanted to ask if you're ok." He states.

"You don't give a shit so why ask?" I snap, facing him. His expression looks so lost and hurt, but he can't feel those things. He can't feel emotions.

"I'm sorry for my behavior, Detective." He says as he looks into my eyes.

"You can't feel sorry." I harshly correct. He sadly looks away, walking to his desk and sitting down. I use this time to think harder on any connections. rA9 seems to be an obsession, but not with every deviant. It must be some kind of error in their code, like a virus or something. The cases originate here in Detroit and spread throughout the country. That means it had to of been something that is passed on somehow. Maybe when they connect? Maybe they can corrupt others through that, but why? And why do they feel emotions? Why not some other malfunction? Like a glitch or error in speech or function. How did the first one get corrupted?

"Emily!" I turn to face Hank.

"Yes?" He had finally showed up for work, saving me from this thing.

"Get your shit together. We've got a place to visit."

"Yeah? Where?" I ask with a small smile.

"You'll see."

...

"This isn't fun anymore!" I whine, pouting at Hank.

"What? Why?"

"Connor hasn't missed a single one!" Hank squints his eyes at me.

"And you haven't hit a single one." He teases.

"My apologies, detective. Would you like me to miss my shots too?"

"Fuck you!" Hank laughs at my frustration. "He's not even a real person! Why is he even allowed in the batting cages? Make him get us French fries or wait in the car!" My complaining isn't amusing to Connor, naturally, but Hank can't stop smirking.

"Why can't he bat? He isn't hurting anyone!"

"Ugh!" I pull off my helmet and storm off to the arcade to play air hockey. I've always been really good and it's been a favorite my whole life. A young man takes the other side of the rink and smirks at me.

"Care for a game?" He asks.

"Sure!" I agree and he pays for the round. He serves the puck, shooting it fast to my goal, but I don't miss a beat and hit it back to him. He barely hits it from his goal and the puck bounces off the sides many times at me. I skillfully hit it straight into his goal and a big smile covers my face.

"What? Damn, miss, you're pretty good! I guess I should stop going easy on you." He teases.

"Oh yeah? You looked pretty focused." I say, chuckling. He serves the puck again and I instantly hit it into his goal. I jump up in excitement.