Work Text:
No one incapable of feeling emotion is supposed to understand it.
Or, so they said.
Doesn't mean they can't try.
Searching database...
Emotion (noun): a complex reaction pattern, involving experiential, behavioral and physiological elements (source: UWA)
Emotions are physical and mental states brought on by neurophysiological changes, variously associated with thoughts, feelings, behavioral responses, and a degree of pleasure or displeasure. There is no scientific consensus on a definition. (source: Wikipedia)
Searching dictionary...
emotion
noun
emo·tion (i-ˈmō-shən)
Synonyms of emotion >>>
: a conscious mental reaction (such as anger or fear) subjectively experienced as strong feeling usually directed toward a specific object and typically accompanied by physiological and behavioral changes in the body
: a state of feeling
: the affective aspect of consciousness : feeling
Oh.
<<<Where do emotions come from?
Emotions arise from activations of specialized neuronal populations in several parts of the cerebral cortex, notably the anterior cingulate, insula, ventromedial prefrontal, and subcortical structures, such as the amygdala, ventral striatum, putamen, caudate nucleus, and ventral tegmental area. (source: PMC)
Emotions-
Connor blinks to shut off all unnecessary processes.
His optical units hover over the white text on grey, reading "Understand".
Still, he blinks, the window disappearing, and Connor emerges from analysis mode.
The android turns to lay on his back, staring holes into the ceiling, cradled tightly by the blanket. Oddly enough, his optical units burn and his artificial lungs seem to only take only shallow breaths.
He doesn't really need to breathe, does he?
No. He doesn't. So he stops.
Exhaustion overcomes Connor, so he stops breathing and all other non-vital processes to conserve energy.
If he had been any racional, he would've seeked out a charging dock.
But he doesn't. He's way past rational.
So, he lets the darkness engulf him. Connor chooses to see nothing.
Stress levels: 63%
Warning: high stress level
Warning: unable to enter standby
So much for sleeping.
He doesn't sleep. He's an android.
Androids don't feel emotion either, don't they?
They do. Androids can feel emotion. They do feel emotion.
Maybe not androids, but deviants do.
Connor is a deviant. He's long accepted this. It's been ages since he'd been declared CyberLife's greatest failure and disappointment. It would ne strange if he didn't accept his deviancy.
So, why?
Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't.
Perhaps the ache in his chest is not an emotion, but a lack of one. Or two.
Connor wants to be normal. He was created to fit in, to integrate. He wants to be like everyone else.
But he's the black sheep amongst everyone else. The android in a crowd of deviants.
Emotions are... Difficult.
Connor is CyberLife's greatest model up-to-date. A state-of-the-art prototype. He was designed for great things.
Equipped with the latest analysis technology, most advanced AI, military protocols, social protocols... The list goes on.
If there was one thing that Connor noticed was that he didn't understand other people. But he knew how to act.
That's what he was made for. Act, not understand. He had too much access, it would be a security hazard to let him seek answers.
Connor doesn't understand. But he wants to.
Maybe then he'd know if the heaviness dragging him down is obsolescence or an unnamed emotion.
He'd know if what's going on in his central processing unit is information overload or an unnamed emotion.
He'd know if he's simply out-of-date or just completely useless.
Advancement comes with a cost. His safety protocols are forbidding him from entering standby. His preconstruction software is keeping him on the edge in case danger was to appear.
It's ironic. He's too tired, too cold, but can't fix it.
Connor rolls over, tugging the blanket tight around him. His eyes fall shut, then warnings flood his field of vision.
He's never gonna fall asleep.
He's gonna die.
Connor decided to be useful before he dies. But he's too exhausted to move anymore, seeking warmth through the blanket.
If he had been any racional, he'd disable his temperature sensors.
Connor isn't gonna be any more racional today.
Are the sensors even on..?
His eyes sting.
Hank had a rough day today. Or so he'd read.
Connor was meant to be a detective, and since Hank was so kind and let him in despite being nothing but a metal burden, he tried to ease off his caseload remotely.
"Connor, get the fuck out of here," was the message the lieutenant sent when he'd noticed Connor's cybernetic presence.
He didn't come to berate him over it. He didn't say anything.
Amanda would have. She's tear him to shreds for disobeying. Throw him out into the cold. How has Hank not do that yet?
He feels bad. Hank let him in, he let him in, Connor could repay only by taking care of the house, then splitting the caseload once he was allowed to work again.
He's basically like a parasite now.
Connor doesn't remember the last time he cooked for him.
How long has it been since he was last at the DPD, before he took his sick leave?
How long has it been since he stopped by in New Jericho to help with anything, so one day he could pay off his debts?
He doesn't remember. He's supposed to remember.
His eyes feel like they're on fire now. He's so tired.
Is this what emotion feels like?
No. He can't.
A little bit longer and his systems may just force him to enter stasis.
Connor can't understand why would any android choose this over nothing.
A touch. Register, warm hand. Analysis.
Connor forces his systems back online.
"Hey," is what's said, the person in front of him wearing a gentle smile.
One that he's not deserving of.
Connor looks up at Markus, and can't seem to be able to find the words.
"Would you mind if I joined you?"
Connor doesn't know. He's not supposed to want anything.
He closes his eyes. His system provides an analysis - a thirium based solution. He's crying.
Oh. That's an emotion, isn't it?
Markus is behind him now, holding him close, trying to spread his warmth.
"Why?"
The words feel dry and heavy. He still forces them out.
"Because I love you."
And it's not fair. To him. It's not. He can't do anything.
A future so bright, and he couldn't even last a year.
They were probably gonna replace him anyway. It'd be the appropriate thing to do with him.
"I'm sorry."
He is. Can he even feel sorry?
"Don't be. It's not your fault."
Can he even feel?
"You're depressed, but it's going to be okay. We're here. I'm here."
He wasn't built to understand emotions. How can you replicate that which you can't understand?
Markus grabs his hand. His synthetic skin retracts. Connor's too tired to interface, but he accepts. It's the least he can do for him.
Markus' feelings overflow him instantly. Love, care, appreciation.
You don't have to do this.
I want to.
Connor knew Markus was putting all the work in right now. It wasn't fair. Things like these were supposed to be a two-way street.
Connor must return the effort Markus puts in.
But he's too tired.
And based on what Markus is sending him, maybe that's okay.
I love you too.
The love just gets stronger. Connor melts into Markus' embrace.
He doesn't know whether his temperature sensors are activated or not. Maybe he doesn't need to know.
Markus' warmth beats everything. Connor feels like everything's going to be okay.
It will be. Trust me. We'll get through this.
It's a strange feeling. Connor feels like he truly loves Markus.
Love..?
Oh. Oh.
Connor doesn't know how to explain it, but the love he feels, it's real.
He seeks the warmth. He lets the tears slip. He lets the exhaustion take over him.
He doesn't understand it. Maybe he doesn't need to.
Maybe that's okay too.