The trip back to the department was a good thirty minutes. Connor spent the time trying to focus on the case, but the Lieutenant was not driving very safely. Connor was not very sure they wouldn't crash. He was sure Anderson was was only driving this way because he was angry. The drive frustrated Connor and rose his stress levels.
Finally they got back. Anderson didn't even look at Connor when he sat down. Connor knew he was due to write a report on Zlatko's, but he had put it off. He wasn't sure the same numbness would come back when he went back through the memories. He was reluctant to see the carnage again. He decided to try and discuss something with Anderson instead, if he could.
"Do you want to hear what Kamski said?"
Anderson didn't respond. He kept typing on his terminal. Connor immediately felt his frustration increase. He felt it was important to debrief the Lieutenant. They were partners. They needed to work together, no matter how childish Anderson tended to act.
"He believes that deviancy might be a computer virus that spreads when androids share information with each other. The virus remains dormant until a high stress situation works as a catalyst to form deviancy."
He waited again for Anderson to answer, but the man still ignored him.
"Lieutenant, are you going to continue this indefinitely?" No response. "I don't see what you think you are going to achieve. All you're doing is making the case more difficult."
Connor waited again for Anderson to respond. He still didn't. Connor took a deep breath to let out his frustration, then turned on his terminal. He might as well get it over with. He had a handle on his stress levels.
Going back through was still brutal. The first moment of horror had been analyzing the androids in the basement. He had trained to scavenge parts in case of a combat survival scenario, but it was often one or two parts, not half his body. Even with those few, the pain of his body trying to adapt to something not built for it was extremely unpleasant. He could only imagine those androids were living daily with excruciating pain. Even the few seconds of interface between him and the girl were just a slight glimpse of what she was feeling.
Connor's stress was at 50 percent.
The computer had had recordings of the memory wipes of the last twenty or so androids. Connor had watched them beg and fight. Slowly, they had all gone silent. Memories replayed of his own fights with the CyberLife techs back before he had been properly trained to control himself and his simulated emotions. He remembered the fear of being utterly helpless as the machine lifted him onto his toes. It was not a pleasant machine to be in, and he could remember his own cries for mercy.
Stress was at 73 percent.
Then there was the upstairs. The parts strewn haplessly over the rooms, half-assembled people randomly throughout, and traces of Thirium on every wall, door, and surface. At some point a body had been dragged, forcefully, down those stairs. Thirium-covered hands had gripped the banisters in desperation. Whoever it had been, they were long since disposed of. Endless reconstructions had overlapped in those rooms of desperate androids fighting hopelessly for a chance to survive. Connor had been aware of each one.
Stress levels had reached 89 percent, by the time he was done. He sighed, trying to calm himself. It managed only one percent.
Seconds later Reed was at his desk demanding he make copies of some files. Connor forced his face to stay neutral. The unnecessary interruption was severely frustrating and only added to his stress.
"Detective, if I may point out, the copy machine happens to be placed almost perfectly between your desk and mine. It would have been more efficient for you to go there rather than asking for my assistance."
