Chapter Text
August 15th, 2038 | 8:25 PM
The ride from the ground floor of the luxury apartment complex up to the penthouse suite was not a particularly short one. Nor did it provide an opportunity to glean any more information about the evolving case than they had already received. That was, unless any new updates came wirelessly in the few minutes it would take to reach the top level.
After several moments of near-silent waiting, the prototype android determined the time would be better spent preparing as best they could and drew out a 1994 minted US quarter from an inside pocket of his jacket.
The faint artificial tchlongk, tchlongk, of the highrise elevator moving up floors provided a pleasant background metronome for Connor as he methodically flipped his coin up in the start of his field level self calibration test. The quiet ting as it was launched and subtle pap as it landed on his palm, alternatingly head and tails, provided a parallel eighth note rhythm to the elevator’s natural steady beat.
To the android’s right was his robotic K9 tactical counterpart, Kyna. The two had been paired, synced, trained, and tested together since Connor was first brought online in February earlier that same year. Android deviancy cases had only grown more prevalent in the months following their project’s inception, and today was their first time being deployed, assigned to assist the SWAT team already addressing the ongoing hostage situation several floors above them.
Kyna had her own calibration sequence she began as well, though hers did not require any tools outside of her own tawny, fawn colored body. She began by lifting each dark brown digital pad of her forelegs in turn. The motion was symmetrical, starting with the outermost digits and moving inward. She had a great deal more dexterity in her paws than her organic counterpart, but still nowhere near the surgical-level finesse programmed into Connor's humanoid fingers. As he briefly rolled the quarter along its edge on the back of his hands, Kyna finished her secondary inner to outer roll of digits.
The blue numbers on the digital display hit 57 and continued to climb, and Connor switched his quarter from his left hand to his right at the same time Kyna moved from her forelegs to her hind. They both repeated the same motions, still in sync with each other, and timed to the beat of the rising elevator.
Neither one moved their gazes from the closed doors in front of them, but Connor didn’t need to look at Kyna since he was as familiar with her frame and system specs as with his own. She was modeled after an adult female Belgian Malinois and stood with a shoulder height of 26 inches; her neck and head rising above that to reach barely below his waist. The very fronts of her paws were a darker brown that matched the saddle stretching across her back and haunches, a few shades lighter than the almost black mask that covered the front of her muzzle and backs of her ears.
The CyberLife technicians that had decided on her design had gone with one of the more common and recognizable colorations of the dog breed. Though CyberLife employees from outside the Zoological Department, tasked in part with her development, often mistook her for a German Shepherd due to the visual similarities.
Connor’s own physical appearance had undergone far more review and debate, but ultimately it was decided he would have a rather unassuming appearance that would lend itself well to a variety of different expressions depending on what various situations most called for. Someone in the Military and Law Enforcement Department Connor had been primarily developed under was either lazy or had a sentimental streak, because when they manufactured his optical lenses, they had used the preexisting iris model from Kyna’s frame for his own.
Perhaps it had been to cut expenses on their joint projects that already cost a small fortune, but it wasn’t as if their eyes were mechanically interchangeable between their humanoid and canine frames. However the decision was made, their irises were indistinguishable and Connor’s hair color was chosen to match. The overall color palettes of their two frames were designed to be visually harmonious to reinforce their paired dynamic, and Kyna’s tactical and identifying kevlar vest was the same slightly lighter shade of black as Connor’s jeans.
The elevator reached floor 64 and Connor ran the last section of his individual calibration sequence, Kyna mirroring his progress at his heel. Connor flicked the quarter back and forth between his hands now, coordinating the motions between both right and left while Kyna took her tall and pointed ears and rotated them individually through their full range of motion before settling them back in their forward resting position as Connor caught his coin along its circumference between pointer and middle finger.
Pocketing the diagnostic tool in his jacket, Connor read his system’s report of optimal efficiency and held his right hand at his side, fingers together and palm formward. As he had done so Kyna had gently bitten her jaws together thrice to calibrate their pressure before tilting her head up and repeating the motion, closing her teeth over Connor’s proffered fingers in a precise and practiced manner.
In the periphery of his awareness Connor temporarily registered the messages Kyna’s systems were sending her:
[CALIBRATION] Mandibular Force Output: 30.0 PSI ±1% (±0.3 PSI) – Pressure Delivery Nominal
[INFO] Dyadic Interface: Outbound Tactile Signal Registered
[STATUS] Pair Bond Sync: Initiating Reciprocal Feedback Loop
However he had only milliseconds to read them before his own systems were pinging him:
[CALIBRATION] Tactile Sensor Input: 30.0 PSI ±1% (±0.3 PSI) – Within Expected Range
[INFO] Dyadic Interface: Inbound Signal Match Confirmed
[STATUS] Pair Bond Sync: Feedback Integrity Stable
Immediately after appeared the expected results to both of their systems simultaneously:
[SYNC] Bidirectional Tactile Calibration Complete – Signal Concordance Achieved
[UPDATE] Dyadic Link Status: Reinforced – Mutual Input/Output Alignment Verified
The elevator slowed and dinged its arrival at floor 70. Connor used both hands to adjust his tie one last time and spared a thought to the appearance of Kyna’s tactical vest; she was already confirming its proper fit before his thought could formally coalesce into a question. While dropping his hands to once again hang by his sides, this time in a more natural manner, the elevator doors slid open in front of them to reveal the first real test of their joint capabilities.