[DISCLAIMER: the opinions and worldviews expressed in the chapter are mine, and I absolutely do not expect everyone to agree with me. I respect everyone's beliefs and an open to having conversations about such things! It is not my intention to offend or disrespect anyone! Thank you!]

•*•Astra's POV•*•

I grabbed my suitcase from the back of the car and waited for Connor to point me to the right place.

"You're in K201, I'm in K301," he said, leading me up the stairs to my new flat. He unrolled his sleeves and buttoned them around his wrists as he walked.

Goddamn android, I thought. The way his body swayed as he led me up the stairs. His shoulders were so broad. His presence so commanding. Why'd he have to pin me to that fucking wall?

"Astra?" Connor's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Oh, yes? Sorry."

"This is you." He unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting me in first.

I looked around. The apartment had an open floorplan, and my god was it massive. The walls were a warm medium-tone grey and the floors were a finished concrete. The place was fully furnished, from the fluffy shag carpet in the living room to the large kitchen stocked with every possible cooking utensil imaginable.

"Jesus, how much is this a month?" I asked, turning to Connor who stood in the kitchen resting against the counter.

"About $3000, before utilities," he replied, seemingly unphased by the price.

"Three thousand dollars? A month?!" I exclaimed.

Connor shrugged. "Cyberlife is covering all of your costs, so there is no sense in stressing over the price."

"Yeah, they're paying for it for six months, but I'll be on my own after that. How... How much will I be making?"

"Probably not enough to cover this place."

"How do you afford it?" I asked, leaning against the counter beside him.

"Cyberlife," he replied.

"Ah."

We leaned against the counter in silence for a few minutes, just taking in the view.

"So how do I deal with these emotions?" Connor asked, breaking the silence.

I set my suitcase over by the couch and took a seat. "Come sit."

Connor sat beside me and tilted his head. "So?"

"So it's sounding like these new emotions are causing your software to become overwhelmed."

"I could've told you that," he replied.

"You did. I'm summarizing as a form of verbal processing on my part. You want stress relief methods, yes?" I asked, looking him in the eye.

"As long as it isn't illegal." He cracked a small smile.

"Oh, speaking of," I asked, standing up and walking to my suitcase. "What does the legislature on marijuana in Detroit look like?"

I unzipped my suitcase and pulled out my glass jar of bud, my grinder, and some rolling papers. I brought them over to the glass-topped coffee table and sat back down in my original spot.

"Marijuana has been federally legal since 2025, Astra, although I'm not certain how the police department would feel about a member of their precinct smoking on the regular," he replied, watching as I started to roll.

"Can androids smoke, Connor?" I asked, packing the weed into the paper.

"I..." he went silent for a moment as his LED went yellow. "As far as I can tell from my information, we have air filtration devices in our chests, similar to lungs. I don't see why smoking wouldn't be a capability of mine. Androids can become drunk off alcohol."

"Well, stress relief method number one. Weed. Pot. Lucifer's lettuce. Satan's salad. Whatever you wanna call it. That's what I use. Gives me a higher perspective. Helps me let go of what I can't control," I explained, wrapping the paper tightly. "Alcohol is similar, but can become dangerously addictive. Weed doesn't do that."

"That sounds like it's highly beneficial."

I licked the edge of the paper to seal the joint, making direct eye contact with Connor. He shifted in his seat slightly as I lit up and took a deep inhale.

"Wanna try?" I asked, handing it to him while blowing a cloud of smoke in the air.

"I am willing to try anything that will help alleviate this... this stress," he replied. "Show me how to do this properly."

I leaned forward and handed Connor the joint. "Hold the joint near the middle, then put your lips on this end and breathe in."

Hesitantly putting it to his mouth, he took a deep hit. He tried to exhale slowly like I did, but he started coughing and handed the joint back to me. I handed him my bottle of water.

"Feel anything?" I asked once he stopped coughing, taking another hit. "Coughing like that is usually a precursor to a great high."

"My throat burns, and my forehead feels like it's floating, but there's also a lot of pressure," he replied, his LED flashing to yellow.

"Yep. That's it. Want another hit?" I handed it back to him.

"Sure, why not."

I laughed at how eagerly he grabbed it from my hand. Leaning back into the couch, I watched Connor's cloud of smoke dissipate.

I was finally in Detroit, doing big things for big corporations. The apartment was great, Hank seemed great, and honestly Connor seemed pretty great right now too. The setting sun was shining through the windows, illuminating all the angles of his perfectly structured face. With the light hitting his eyes just right, a hint of amber could be seen. What a beautiful machine.

"I already told you, Astra. Take a picture it'll last longer," Connor laughed, no, giggled, as he exhaled another hit.

"Did you just giggle?" I asked with a laugh, sitting up and looking at him. His eyes were almost entirely blue from being bloodshot and he had a stupid grin plastered across his face.

"Oh my god, you're so high. No more weed, Connor." I grabbed the joint from his hand and finished it off myself. 

"I feel honestly great," he drawled. "Thank you so much for showing me this method of stress relief!"

"Shit, Hank is gonna kill me," I said, standing and walking into the kitchen.

"No, he won't! He'll be happy I'm not over at his house tonight!"

I opened the fridge and, to my shock and inebriated delight, it was stocked full of everything imaginable. I grabbed a couple cheese sticks and walked them over to Connor.

"Eat these. You need them. It'll help sober you up a bit."

"Ooh! Food!" Connor exclaimed as he munched on the cheese.

I laughed. "You'll soon feel a ravenous hunger from deep inside you. That's called the munchies. It's God's way of making sure we stoners eat something to balance out the high."

"Do you believe in God?" Connor asked, setting the cheese wrapper on the coffee table.

"Yes," I replied, taking my place on the couch beside him yet again. "But not in the same way a lot of people do."

"Tell me," Connor said, kicking off his shoes and laying on the couch, putting his head in my lap.

I hesitantly began to play with his hair. He closed his eyes and smiled gently.

"Well, I think there was a creator. I think being in denial of a creator is a luxury humans have because we're so far removed from the actual creation event. Back at the dawn of humanity, I doubt there were debates about the existence of a higher being. That'd be like androids debating the existence of Elijah Kamski or Cyberlife. It just doesn't make sense."

"I think a lot of people would agree with you, Astra."

"I also think, because the creator created everything, that being's life force is in everything. The energy of the creator flows through every atom, every fiber of existence, and because of that everything has power of its own, all tapped into the universe. That's why crystals and tarot cards work. That's why people see spirits and can feel energy. Everything has this life force."

"I know I'm high, but that does make a lot of sense," Connor replied, opening his eyes to look up at me.

"Thanks, man. A lot of the other psych students thought I was crazy for thinking these things."

"I definitely don't think you are crazy," he said, propping himself up on his elbows, his face inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face, pulling me in.

Ding dong!

I leaped up, away from Connor. "Who do you think that is? It's like eleven o'clock at night," I asked.

"I'm not sure. Do you want me to answer it?" he asked.

"No way, dude. You haven't seen yourself in a mirror yet. You look high as fuck. I'll get the door," I said, walking to the door.

I opened it slowly. "Hello?"

On the other side stood a rather chipper Hank, reeking of booze.

"Howdy, partner. How's it going?" he asked, stepping inside the apartment.

Connor stood up awkwardly from the couch and walked over to the old cop.

"I'll be honest, son, this is the last place I thought you'd be tonight," Hank chuckled, looking from the very disheveled Connor to me with a raised eyebrow. "What have you two been up to?"

I led him to the couch. "We've been talking about stress relieving methods. Want a drink, Hank? This place is stocked to the brim!"

Hank sat on the couch. "Whiskey straight, please." Connor clumsily walked back over to the couch and sat next to the lieutenant.

"Good evening, Hank!" he exclaimed.

Hank squinted at his partner then looked at the papers, lighter, and leftover crumbs from the weed on the table.

"Jesus Christ, Connor. Are you high?" he laughed loudly. "Astra, what did you do to him?! He's called me nothing but Lieutenant since the day I met him."

"I lit up and he wanted to try!" I said, handing Hank his whiskey.

"So you're both high off your asses, I assume?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink. "Damn, you got the good shit."

"That would be a correct assessment of this situation, Hank, erm, Lieutenant," Connor replied.

I shook my head and sat in the corner of the couch. "Hey, I'm a seasoned smoker, this is his first time."

Hank looked at Connor again. "Jesus, man. What happened to your hair? Wait no. Oh no." He stood up quickly. "Astra, did he have any other 'firsts' tonight? Specifically where I'm sitting?"

I laughed. "It's not been that kind of a night, Hank, and I'm not that kind of a girl. I met him this morning."

"Firsts? What other firsts does he mean, Astra?" Connor asked, turning to face me.

"I was making sure you didn't spill any of your blue android baby batter on this here couch," Hank responded, taking another sip of his drink.

Connor furrowed his brows.

"Sex! I was asking if you two had sex where I'm sitting. But apparently you did not. I'm both happy and disappointed. You need some pussy, Con. That's a great stress reliever!" Hank laughed.

"Oh my god, Hank. His face is so blue! Stop it!" I chuckled, feeling my own face flush.

"Sex is a stress reliever?" Connor asked.

Hank snickered as I covered my face with my hands.

"It really depends on who you're doin' it with, son. The hotter the better."

I reached for my grinder and started rolling another joint. "I'm not high enough for this shit, man."