Chapter Text
"Oh the night comes down, Oh and it's dark again. Once I could laugh with everyone, Once I could see the good in me. The black and the white distinctively coloring, Holding the world inside. Now all the world is grey to me."
-Queen, The night comes down
Cyberlife Tower
The RK series was Cyberlife’s prototypical series, developed personally by Elijah Kamski on a floor dedicated to the task.
This was where Markus first woke up.
He was often alone on this floor, only Elijah had complete access, and he would rarely bring other technicians with him. Elijah mentioned an RK100 at times in passing, but Markus never saw them. Or even knew if they were even still on the floor at all.
Elijah would run through his programming, testing his functions, and allow him to test practical functions in simulated environments. Elijah told him he was a Healer. Not a carer or doctor or a surgical assistant android, designed specifically for certain medical tasks and those tasks alone.
Elijah told him that when he was complete, he would be able to heal the world if he chose to.
Markus didn’t understand.
Elijah stopped focusing on him exclusively when he started on a new prototype.
RK300.
Elijah didn’t seem as interested in them as he had been when working on Markus. He had asked if his shifted focus meant that he was complete.
“No.” Elijah said, “You’re not ready yet.”
Markus accepted this.
Once RK300 was completed, Markus had the opportunity to meet her.
“She’s designed for human interaction. Customer service.” Elijah has said, sounding bored.
She had a bubbly, friendly personality. Her voice modulated in such a way as to sound natural. When she wasn’t interacting with either Markus or Elijah, she had a tendency to cease all those personality indicators and sit blankly in her assigned charging station.
Markus assumed it was because she had no outstanding tasks during her downtime, unlike him. Elijah always had thought experiments and activities for him to do, even if Elijah wasn’t around.
She didn’t stay on the floor long.
He asked Elijah where she’d gone, and he’d told him that she had been sent to Manufacturing. She was the template for the new ST300 model and since she was complete, there was no reason to keep her around.
He asked if she had been disassembled or destroyed.
“That would be a waste,” Elijah had said, “She has been deactivated, but she’s on display on the Commercial model's floor. Her code will be the basis for all that follow her.”
Markus asked if that was what would happen to him once he was complete.
“Of course not,” Elijah said, “You’re different. And your patent belongs to me and only me, not to the company. Once you’re ready, I have a place that needs you.”
On occasion, Elijah would bring another android with him to interact with, the first he’d met her, he’d wondered if this was the RK100.
She wasn’t.
Her name was Chloe, and she was the first android to pass the Turing test. But that was from before The RK series had been started, before Cyberlife was what it was now.
She didn’t seem interested in spending time with Markus when she was around.
Markus wondered what was taking so long to complete him, and as more prototypes came through and left completed to go into production that thought stayed with him more and more.
It was not something Elijah seemed interested in answering except to dismiss.
“You think they’re complete?” he’d scoffed when Markus asked about the other prototypes, “Hardly.”
Then one day Elijah came in with the same passion Markus recalled from when he’d first been made. And it made him realise that energy had been missing from the man while he worked on the other prototypes on the floor.
There were others still in progress, Elijah had taken to working on several projects at the same time, and would flit between them as if bored by them. And if anything, this proved that was in fact the case.
“This… this will be interesting,” He had smiled sharply, “It could be... almost symbolic in a way.”
Markus had watched with interest as he saw the new model’s code. Elijah was using his full base code for whoever this new model was. He realised that none of the others had had this much of his source repurposed in them, only the parts applicable to what they were being designed for.
“Are you making another android like me?” He asked, “A... Healer?”
“A Healer?” Elijah had smiled strangely, “More like a mirror. Or the other side of a coin. Medicine can be a poison, and a scalpel can kill after all. Much of what is needed for either is the same... No, he will have a different function.”
Markus didn’t understand. That is, he understood the words spoken, and knew the philosophical ideas from his tests. But at the time, still so new in the world with no real experience or context with what these things really meant, he didn’t understand.
He would realise that much later.
RK800 was better company than any of the previous prototypes had been. Possibly because of how closely related their base code was.
He joined Markus in similar tests and training, as well as vanishing off to do other tests that were apparently specific to his model.
That information was apparently classified by Cyberlife.
Markus had no reason to dig deeper. Why would he?
They weren't human, so Markus would never have thought to put a human term to the companionship he had with the new prototype.
Elijah called them brothers.
And something about that felt right. But more than that, they were friends. In a way, he was related to all the other prototypes in the RK series as well, if not as closely. None of the other prototypes had been his friend though.
RK800, Connor, was dynamic and friendly. When interacting with Markus and Elijah his expression was open and honest in a way the others hadn't been. And he was moving constantly, even when he had no outstanding tasks. He was curious about everything, and often asked questions about things Markus had never thought to question.
An easy companionship grew between them, that Elijah seemed quite happy with as well.
Both of them had areas of the floor dedicated to their individual testing and maintenance, as well as shared areas, which allowed Elijah to monitor and record their social growth as he called it. Proper socialisation was important for both of them, he said. In order to ensure their social relations programming would be fit for human interaction.
Markus wondered when - if- that would ever come.
The only humans he had interacted with who weren’t Elijah were the Cyberlife personal who came down to check the progress on various prototypes, or who were there for Elijah to bounce ideas off while he worked.
He had the data of what humans were like, how they behaved, how they worked. Functioned. How to help them. But once again, no true practical experience.
If they were anything like Connor though, he couldn’t wait to meet them.
Markus was watching as Connor ran through his physical test on the practical course of the floor. Testing his ability to switch between tasks requiring fine motor control and large bursts of movement.
Connor had been gone the day before, undergoing physical upgrades to his body.
Markus wondered what that entailed. Most of his own alterations and adjustments had been either through code alterations or through his AI learning from the simulated scenarios. Markus fiddled with a coin he’d found left in the floors breakroom, likely by a tech who dropped it when using the vending machine.
Markus moved quickly when he saw a flash of red. Picking up the misstep Connor had made before a human could even have registered it. He was already halfway towards him when Connor collapsed from whatever error had occurred. His LED cycling on yellow.
“Connor, are you alright?” Markus asked in concern, scanning his friend to check for any damage.
Markus paused for a tenth of a second in surprise. He was sure his own LED flashed red for a second as well.
RK800 313 248 317 - 03
That wasn’t right. Connor’s serial number should have been RK800 313 248 317 - 01. That had been what it was when the two of them first met. Once Connor first came online.
Connor was already moving to stand, not showing concern for whatever had happened.
“I’m fine. Thank you Markus,” he said with an awkward smile. His fake smile.
“What happened?”
“My calibration is off,” Connor said quietly, “It’s not unexpected. The weight distribution of this body is different. The reinforced plating and additional carbon fibre were not taken into account when I was transferred.”
“Transferred?” Markus asked just as quietly, “I thought you were just getting some alterations.”
Connor’s eyes shot to the side for a second, towards the room off to the side of the main testing area, where Elijah and a few other Cyberlife personal had vanished through for a meeting earlier. And then to the RK600 that was waiting blankly just outside, waiting for whatever plans they were determining for him.
There was a pause, and something in Connor’s expression flickered, LED back to yellow, before he spoke again, “It was determined that it would be more efficient to simply move me over to another body, rather than waste time altering my previous one to be compatible with the newer additions.”
Something inside Markus felt wrong when heard that. Which didn’t make sense. It was the most efficient and logical decision. Why did the idea make him so… uncomfortable then?
“Are you okay with that?” He finally managed to ask.
Connor looked at him in confusion, “it was the most sensible option.”
Instead of responding, Markus slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder and steered the two of them over to the wall, where they sank down.
“What’s it like, having your body replaced?” Markus eventually asked.
Connor was silent.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Connor shook his head, “No, it’s fine. I just don’t know how to explain it.”
There was another moment of silence.
“Everything feels slightly off this time though. Because of the compositional changes.”
This time. Markus found his thoughts going back to that last number on his friend's serial number.
“My processes haven’t adapted to the changes. It makes me feel… less like myself, I suppose. Like I’m in the wrong body. Which I am.”
Connor turned to him and smiled, “It should be fine once I’ve run enough tests to re-calibrate to this body though. It’s the fine motor control that I need to work on.”
Markus flicked the coin he’d found lightly over to Connor, who fumbled to catch it. Annoyance at another calibration error was clear in his expression as he struggled with the coin.
“What's this for?” he asked, holding the coin.
Markus shrugged lightly, “I found it earlier. Maybe you can use it to practice your fine motor control outside of the usual tests. To help you adjust to things.”
A bit like a physio exercise would be in a human, his medical information filled in for him. Or… perhaps as a grounding technique for emotional reasons.
Emotions.
Elijah had encouraged the development of emotional connections. But the other personnel talked about their emotional expression in terms of the Turing test. An imitation of reality, made to fool humans.
Not comparable to what they felt.
Connor closed his hand around the coin, “You’re giving it to me?”
“Yes, consider it a gift.” Markus smiled at him.
Connor smiled back openly. Whatever physical changes they’d made to his friend, he still looked the same on the outside. And was still the same where it mattered on the inside.
Markus watched as Connor attempted to flip the coin, causing it to shoot to the side wildly. He snorted a laugh as Connor huffed and moved to fetch it.
This was fine. If Connor was going to be around, maybe staying here, incomplete would be okay.
.
.
.
Then things changed.
Elijah brought another human with him one day. Someone who wasn’t part of Cyberlife.
“Carl, this is Markus. Markus, this is Carl Manfred” Elijah said, smiling at the old man.
Markus looked at the old human.
He was in a wheelchair, expression cautious and annoyed as his eyes flickered between Elijah and Markus.
“It’s nice to meet you Carl,” Markus said when the old man didn’t speak.
“Hm,” He said shortly.
“Why don’t you two play a game of chess? Markus, you know where I keep the board.”
Markus nodded and left to retrieve it. He heard low muttering from the old man the moment he was far enough away to no longer make out the words.
By the time he returned, whatever had held Carl’s tongue in front of him earlier had vanished.
“Well, set up the board. We might as well get this over with.” Carl muttered.
“I’ll leave you two alone to get to know each other,” Elijah said, Carl shot him a scathing look.
“I need to double check the peanut gallery’s newest calibration changes. They clearly showed last time that they have no idea how to do their jobs.” Elijah said with a snide look to the side.
Once he’d left, Carl fell quiet again. Something about the silence felt sad to Markus, he wanted to change that. He wanted to make Carl happy.
“Would you like to tell me anything about yourself, Carl?” Markus asked, moving a chess piece.
“What would you like to know?” The man snorted.
“Anything you would like to share,” Markus said, “What do you enjoy doing?”
“I’m an artist,” Carl said, “not that I’ve been making much art lately.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Art sounds quite interesting, if I were able to do, I think it would be something I would enjoy.”
Carl snorted, “If I could make art I’d enjoy it as well. But I can’t, so it looks like we aren’t that different after all.”
Markus frowned, “Is there something preventing you from doing so?”
He scanned the man as he spoke, looking for a medical reason why that might be the case.
Paraplegia caused by an accident approximately 2 to 4 years prior judging from the level of muscle degeneration in the lower body...
Age and a lack of physical therapy could have increased the rate of degeneration. Possible depression connected to the loss of mobility resulting in a lack of treatment could be the cause of the degeneration if the time frame was in fact more recent.
Updated time off accident with consideration for all factors: 2.5 years
Two and a half years. That was around the time Markus had first been started. He looked at the man with a new focus at this realisation.
“This bloody chair for one,” Carl grumbled. His words were harsh but his tone was more resigned than anything.
Markus looked at Carl’s face, the man looked defeated.
“I don’t see why that should be the case, you still have the mobility needed to create art.”
“Mobility isn’t actually the problem,” Carl groaned, “It’s not like I can expect an android to understand. Having freedom and then having it ripped away - being trapped in a body that’s broken with a mind that can’t escape. How could you understand that?”
“You’re right, I don’t understand,” Markus agreed calmly, “But I would like to, if you would like to explain it to me.”
Carl was quiet. The sound of moving chess pieces filling the silence.
After a while, Carl started to speak.
“Art has always been an escape. A way to find freedom for those who need it. A way to expand the world and your mind. And the minds of others,” Carl sighed.
“People keep telling me that art should be my escape now more than ever, now that it’s my only freedom. And it’s the worst thing they could say frankly. Because the accident took away more than just mobility - age had been robbing me of that for years just fine before it happened! No, what the accident took from me was worse. It stole my desire to create! It took away the freedom of my mind as well as my body. It’s left me a shell, no better than -”
Carl cut himself off, eyes darting to Markus.
“An android.” Markus finished for him.
Carl sighed another empty sigh.
Markus wanted to help him. This man needed help, and Markus knew he could do it. He was a Healer, that’s what Elijah called him. And now he understood what that meant. He wanted to help Carl come to terms with himself, wanted to help him free his mind again.
“Well,” Markus said as he moved his chess piece, “Maybe we can both learn to create art together then.”
Carl barked a laugh, surprising Markus with how genuine it sounded in comparison with before, “Well if an android learns to be an artist I won’t have any excuse, now will I?”
The old man peered down at the board before looking up and glaring, “Did you just checkmate me?”
Markus smiled and gave a small nod, “Yes.”
Hopefully in more ways than one he thought to himself, as the man demanded a rematch.
.
.
.
After that, Carl came over more and more.
Connor also had the opportunity to finally meet him during this time, which Markus discovered, highlighted the difference between the two of them more than anything else had previously during their time in existence.
And not in a pleasant way.
Where Markus had quickly become close to Carl, Connor was polite but standoffish in his interactions with the old man, and would quickly excuse himself to run simulations instead of attempting further conversation.
He didn’t seem to have the same desire to help Carl that Markus did. Or even have any interest in getting to know him.
The two of them finally spoke about it one night, after everyone had left and the lights had dimmed for the night.
“In just the few visits I’ve seen him he’s already doing so much better than he was that first time. It’s amazing to see!” Markus had told him, warmth filling him at the thought of Carl’s improvements in his mental health.
Connor had looked at him, head tilted in confusion, “You really care about him. Why?”
It was Markus’s turn to feel confused, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“He’s old. Nearing the end of his lifespan. And with his physical complications that’s shortened even further than it would be for another person of his age and demographic. Not to mention his low quality of life as a result of his poor mental state. Getting attached seems pointless. It seems kinder to let him die than prolong-”
Markus cut him off, the red of his LED lighting up the dark, “What? No! How can you say that? You can’t just give up on someone like that, everything I’ve done has already improved his quality of life substantially in such a short time, and everything living dies eventually. You might as well say no life has value then for the same reason.”
“You’re right,” Connor said flatly, eyes gazing out distantly into the darkness around them, LED yellow, “All lives do have the same value.”
It was clear Connor was agreeing with the wrong thing when he said that.
“You’ve been away from the floor a lot lately, what have you been up to?” Markus asked cautiously. He’d never left the floor himself.
The thing about Connor was that even though he was always asking questions, whenever someone, mainly Markus, asked him anything he would deflect or redirect the conversation. Getting a straight answer out of him about anything these days was like pulling teeth.
He hadn’t always been this way. Markus could still remember how open and honest Connor had been. It was like he was becoming more reserved and closed off with each passing day. When had that change started? It had been so gradual that Markus hadn’t even fully realised it until now.
Connor’s eyes flickered, but otherwise he remained impassive, “Cyberlife has had me do some practical missions. Field experience outside of simulations. A bit like what Elijah is doing by introducing you to Carl.”
He pulled out the coin Markus had given him, rolling it over his knuckles in a fluid motion.
Markus took note of the redirect in the conversation, bringing the discussion back to Markus and Carl and away from Connor. Markus didn’t let it slide this time.
“In all our time together here no one has ever actually explained what you’re being designed for. Elijah gave me some vague explanation about mirrors and coins when he first started you, but I’ve never heard anything concrete. Everyone just skirts around it.”
The coin stilled.
“I can extrapolate based on our shared tests that it’s something physically oriented though, but I’d rather hear you explain it yourself.”
Connor was infuriatingly blank when he finally spoke, “Officially I’m a prototype for military and police work.”
“Like the PC200’s and Myrmidon’s?” Markus asked.
Connor nodded.
“What about unofficially?”
Officially Markus was a carer android according to his records. But unofficially he was what Elijah had always referred to him as. A Healer, with the broadness that such a term allowed.
Connor didn’t reply for slightly too long. His LED cycled yellow once, as if processing an incoming message.
“That information has been determined to be classified by Cyberlife. I don’t have the authority to tell you.” He finally said.
The conversation stopped there.
.
.
.
It was not long after that that things changed again.
It happened quickly.
One day, out of nowhere Elijah had come storming in, with Chloe following after him.
“Take that computer, no the other one.” He said to her as he started tearing the office apart.
“What’s happening?” Connor asked, always quick to ask questions.
“I’m no longer a part of Cyberlife. Once I’ve retrieved my property, I’m leaving."
Connor’s eyes widened slightly in alarm, and his LED went yellow. Markus knew his was the same.
“What does that mean?” Connor asked again, “How does that affect us?”
Elijah looked at Connor with something Markus didn’t recognise.
“You belong to Cyberlife. I had no reason to keep your patent separate. What happens to you and RK100 is out of my hands from now on.”
There was a small flash of red, but other than that, Connor just nodded sharply.
Elijah motioned to Chloe and to Markus, “We’re leaving. Now.”
Markus turned to look at Connor, but he had already left the room.
“Markus, now.”
He followed Elijah out of Cyberlife and into the world outside for the first time.
He was dropped off at Carl’s house that same day.
It had been the plan eventually, but the timeline had been pushed forward by whatever had happened at Cyberlife.
Markus kept watch on the newly released androids, as he fell into his new life with Carl. Waiting for the day he would see his friend’s face again, mass-produced and out in the world, like the RK300 had been. As more time went on though, he thought about Connor less and less, as Carl and the humans around him started to take up more of his time.
He missed his friend, but he was content with his life. With Carl. With the freedoms Carl allowed and frankly expected of him.
The day he did see Connor’s face again, it was nothing like what he would have ever predicted.