̷F̷I̷V̷E

"I was surprised you wanted to see me again so soon. It was only yesterday that we spoke."

Cyrus's pad of paper was out once more, his ballpoint pen posed over the thin lines. Elodie sucked pensively on her top teeth, working her tongue against the smooth surface of her two front teeth. After a stretch of silence, she let her eyes fall to the floor, running over her laced leather oxfords.

"You could say I'm a little overwhelmed."

"And why would that be?"

"My brother." Elodie began, pausing to pick her words. "He's ... set me a task and I don't know if I can succeed in it. I'm out of my depth."

"Could you, perhaps, say that to your brother? His name was Elijah, wasn't it?"

Elodie nodded, sighing. 

"Frankly, no. My brother has entrusted me with something very important and I need to follow through. I've never failed him before, but ... I'm worried that I'm going to this time, regardless of how hard I try."

Cyrus scribbled something on the notepad before setting it to the side, balancing it on the arm of the couch. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, resting them on the tops of his legs.

"It sounds like perhaps you have a ... A negative valuation of the self here. You've just told me that you have never managed to fail your brother. I feel this is a statement that's a lot bolder than you realise. Most of us fail our family. Often, too. It's a natural part of being in a familial ecosystem. Already you've stated yourself to be exceptional, but then the double back. You're convinced despite the prior evidence that this is the time you will be unable to keep up that track record."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She'd never been spoken to so directly by Cyrus, usually their sessions involved Elodie speaking while he listened in silence. This was the first time he'd pushed back on her thinking.

"W-well for one, I suppose Elijah and I have an exceptional relationship." Elodie started, trying to not sound unconfident in her words. "I consider him to be my only family, even though our parents are still around."

"And the track record? What makes this time different?" Cyrus pressed.

She swallowed, suddenly aware of the quickening pace of her heartbeat. Something about interrogating her own thoughts made her want to squirm. It was a bitter reminder of the doubt that lingered in the back of her mind.

"I ... I guess the difference is my working memory and the fact it isn't what it used to be."

"And you're afraid this is going to affect your performance?"

"I'm afraid it's already affected my performance. In fact, it has, and I only just realised the true extent." She breathed a long exhale afterwards. She felt lightheaded and dizzy, as though she had slowly begun to spiral out of control. 

Cyrus nodded, leaning backwards in his seat. He studied her with his small dark eyes, narrowing as they searched her face. The intensity of his gaze was too much, Elodie's eyes fixed to the ballpoint's body, sleek and black with a logo that denoted a premium brand. The kind of pen that's expensive because it can be reused. Slide a little plastic tube of ink inside its hollow body and it glides across the page once more. 

She'd never understood status markers like this, ballpoint pens were cheap, always had been cheap. It confused her that he would spend so much money on what could be considered the most basic of pen types. She'd always associated fountain pens, which were expensive already in their most base of forms, with the kind of panache to be touted by someone who would spend a lot of money on a pen. Elodie herself used a rollerball, she needed something fluid and decisive. Maybe it had been a gift? Elodie's pen had been a gift, now that she thought about it.

" ... can often cause memory loss, along with effect your perception of current day events and places."

"Pardon?" Elodie said as she pulled herself from the whirlpool of her thoughts.

"What I was saying is, it's perfectly normal that you're experiencing what you are under the current circumstances. I wouldn't try to read too much into it. You need time to recover. Maybe this thing from your brother, this task, could be the thing that provides that restoration that you need. You've been taking more of a backseat at work, is that right?"

Elodie bent her neck as she nodded. Anxiety tugged at the back of her throat, causing it to constrict. She was indeed procrastinating at work, hiding from responsibilities. No one had noticed it yet, Elodie had worked autonomously for quite some time, but she felt the harsh truth of her inability, the shame of it. Her self-diagnosis was a syntax error in her own internal code that fundamentally affected her output. The accident had scrambled her and now she was debugging herself from the outside in.

The only person who had noticed was Lex, and perhaps that was why she'd fallen into the relationship with him. He'd covered for her the day he'd asked her for drinks, claimed an error in the prototype they'd been working on had been his own. She'd let herself accept his invitation as thanks, with the hope he wouldn't open his mouth. In reality, she'd never known why Lex had paid her any attention, in her eyes they were opposites, almost antagonistic forces. 

Everyone liked Lex, he was easy to get along with, always knowing the right thing to say. It was something admired about him. Whenever she saw him conversing with another, it was like she could see the cogs of his mind whirring as they formulated the perfect response for his audience. He was good at his job, but not great, yet no one ever found fault with him. Those in authority seemed to respect him implicitly, and no one ever pushed back on his ideas. 

In comparison, Elodie found she routinely upset people without really meaning to. She almost always knew the solutions to problems, but an inability to express them without becoming obtuse alienated her co-workers and often meant that her proposals went unheard. Most everyone agreed that Elodie was intelligent, brilliant even, but this fact was overshadowed by the legacy of her brother. It was overlooked that the entire span of Elodie's employment had been after Elijah had stepped down as CEO. The very reason Elodie had crafted her own programming language had been to draw a distinction between the two of them. It had failed utterly.

"That's right." Elodie replied, nodding slowly. "I guess it could be an opportunity to ... Get back into things."

"Tell me, what exactly is the task? If you don't mind explaining."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging noncommittally. 

"I'm just supervising a prototype on the field. I have to work with a policeman. A lieutenant, though I'm not sure exactly what that means. I'm unfamiliar with the ranks of law enforcement."

Cyrus thought for a moment before replying. 

"I believe a lieutenant is often someone in charge. Sometimes they're second in command, which I assume is the case, given the size of Detroit's police force."

Elodie frowned. It was strange that they hadn't simply been assigned a detective. In fact, she wondered how a lieutenant could possibly have the time to investigate individual cases. 

"What exactly is the prototype doing? Fieldwork is a little unusual for you, from what you've said in the past."

She cleared her throat. 

"Well, I think the whole point is that the model made is imperfect for what it's currently doing. I'm meant to take notes on how best to improve the prototype in a future model and send them back to Cyberlife."

"I see."

Elodie was beginning to feel restless, she didn't want to further explain the mechanisms at play that she'd glossed over so far. She reached to her side to pick up her satchel, pulling it over her head. Cyrus glanced upwards, silent as she adjusted the strap in front of her.

"I think that's all I need for now. I probably need to rest up anyway. I'm on standby until we get the first call in."

Cyrus nodded. 

"No worries. I'll send through the invoice to your email."

"Thanks." 

Elodie stood and made her way to the door. Right before her hand fell to the latch, she heard Cyrus's voice calling out behind her.

"Elodie, I'm sure you're more than capable of the tasks ahead. Just remember — there are always safeguards in place for you. All you need to do is ask."

"Of course." The brunette smiled politely. "I won't forget."

—

It was raining when Elodie arrived outside the bar, the sky inky black. She was sporting a waterproof windbreaker, the hood pulled high over her head, covering the messy ponytail she'd pulled her hair into before leaving the house. She'd tucked the shirt and sweater beneath high waisted dark jeans, a pair of sneakers on her feet. In her pockets, a spiral notepad sat alongside her wallet and keys.

She hadn't known how to dress for an investigation. She'd even tried looking up what was an appropriate outfit, but felt a little stupid after she saw all of the trench coats. Sherlock Holmes, she was not.

Lex had taken one look at her as she moved towards the doorway and frowned. He'd been suspicious ever since she'd gotten back from her appointment with Cyrus. It was unusual that Elodie would need to seek counsel right after a previous appointment, especially when she was so apathetic about the sessions. Lex was no fool.

"Where are you going again?" 

Elodie didn't meet his eye, instead working to check that everything she needed was in her pockets. She'd confessed the bare minimum to him, with the necessary embellishments. Cyberlife was working in tandem with Elijah, she had been assigned some fieldwork with a prototype, the basis was 'need to know'. She could tell he wasn't happy with being left out of the loop, least of all when it involved Elijah.

"Just ... A bar. To, um, speak to an engineer."

"Who?" 

She could tell by the tone of his voice that his eyes were narrowed. She turned to face him, leaning against the bench behind her for support. The lip of it bit into her lower back and she suppressed a wince.

"Someone from the factory. Like I said, I can't elaborate."

"Your brother's a control freak." Lex replied, suddenly sounding bored. Elodie was familiar with this act. "He likes puppeteering you so he'll do it at every opportunity. You don't even breath without asking for his approval. I don't know why you don't call him out on it."

Elodie was silent. She turned back to the bench, her cheeks hot.

"I mean, am I wrong? It's the middle of the night, it's raining, and you're running off to some topic secret work." Lex continued. "If it's not this, then it's a phone call you have to take at 3am or you're having a meeting with someone at work in place of him. The guy's been out of the job for a decade yet he's still your fucking boss."

"He's not my boss." Elodie replied quietly. 

She was sick of this conversation, which had cropped up since the beginning of their relationship. Elodie couldn't fathom why Lex was so deeply resentful of her brother. Any mention of Elijah always sparked a one-sided argument, Lex never seemed to notice he was ranting to a brick wall. The two had met once, at least that was what she had been told, when Elodie had been in surgery. Elijah had made a rare venture outside, Lex had been visiting on behalf of the company. Both men had reported that the interaction had been cordial, yet Lex regularly oscillated between hatred and indifference.

"Right."

"Lex." Elodie said, her tone defeated.

"What?"

"Don't worry. Just ... I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Right."

Elodie found Connor waiting outside, just below an awning that shaded it from the rain above. Hands shoved in her pockets, she eyed the door to Jimmy's Bar. She eyed the 'No Androids' sign on the establishment, common for smaller businesses in Detroit. She came to a stop in front of it, lowering the hood of her windbreaker as she nodded to greet the android.

"Good evening, Miss Kamski." 

Elodie screwed up her nose, but held her tongue. It didn't feel wrong for an android to address her so formally, but that didn't override her distaste. At Cyberlife, she was known somewhat resentfully as Kamski Jr, but it felt inappropriate to transfer this title to life beyond the tower. Besides, she'd never told another person to address her in that manner, it had simply been the by-product of living in Elijah's shadow.

"Good evening. Are you sure he's in there?"

"Yes. I have it on good authority, that being myself. I entered the establishment a short while ago and found the detective. However, he took issue with my presence and had me escorted out."

It seemed this would be an uphill battle. Elodie glanced nervously towards the door.

"Did he seem ... Pleasant? What was his affect?"

Connor blinked at her as it considered the question. 

"From my brief interaction with the detective, he appeared to have a belligerent manner. He expressed himself in what humans would call 'colourful language'. He also exhibited aggression by shoving me."

"Oh, excellent." Elodie muttered to herself. "And the bar, what kind of establishment would you ... Assess it to be?"

Connor glanced towards the bar, and Elodie was certain it was scanning the building. After a beat, the android looked back at her.

"Jimmy's Bar had an all-male patronage when I entered it. There were several patrons who had a prior record with the Detroit Police Department. It has a hygiene rating of C+ from its last audit, and holds a review average of 3.5 stars."

"I get the picture." She said, regretting having asked in the first place. "Well, wish me luck."

"Do you wish for me to accompany you, Miss Kamski?"

Elodie shook her head. 

"I think we should avoid aggravating the detective further. I'm assuming that if you were thrown out once, they won't have a problem doing so again. Wait out here. Hopefully I won't be long."

Connor nodded, straightening its back and training its eyes forward. Elodie sighed, her breath leaving her lips as a wispy cloud of vapour, looking towards the door once more. She considered the idea of calling her brother but brushed the impulse away. Lex's words were in her ear and she didn't want to prove them right. Not everything she did needed Elijah's stamp of approval. With one last breath inwards, she moved forward and let herself into the bar.

It was neither an overly shady establishment, nor was it the sleek, contemporary haunts that Lex preferred. Really it was the kind of place that looked as though she had stepped several years back in the past. The 'No Androids' sign made perfect sense, it was a place that resisted the way technological advancement had leaked into every facet of life in Detroit.

The handful of patron glanced upwards with mild interest as she entered, but quickly drew their eyes away. She supposed she must have looked unremarkable, with her damp hair and her plain clothes. Adjusting the wire glasses on her face, she swallowed as she realised her error. She hadn't bothered to ask what Hank Anderson looked like. Awkwardly she sidled up to the bar, clearing her throat to summon the attention of the bartender.

"Uh, hello." She muttered, averting her eyes to look down at the bar. "Could I grab a rum and coke maybe?"

"Can I see some ID?" The bartender, who she could only assume was Jimmy or perhaps an employee of his, probed.

"Y' didn't ask that of the kid that was in here yesterday." One of the men at the bar muttered, raising his head to glare at the bartender. "If you want the young lady's number, you could just ask."

The bartender snorted as Elodie reached into her pocket hurriedly to produce her wallet. 

"Don't project any of that shit on me, alright? I'm vigilant now. Can ya blame me?"

"Nothin' to project, Jimmy, just pointing out the hypocrisy is all."

Elodie glanced to her side to study him as Jimmy quickly studied her ID. He was a large and imposing man, obvious even despite the fact he was seated, with a shock of white-gray hair that hung over his features and a beard that clung to his broad face. It was hard to accurately place his age, for despite the colour of his hair and his weathered skin, his eyes had a youthful glow to them. As Jimmy squinted at Elodie's ID, the man shifted his gaze to her. Curiosity briefly flitted across his face.

From behind the bar Jimmy scoffed, tossing her ID onto the bar with a soft clack, turning to begin making her drink. 

"Serving a fucking Kamski, huh? Now I've seen everything in here."

The fellow patron narrowed his eyes, bushy brows descending as his face twisted with suspicion. Blushing, Elodie blindly groped at the bar for her ID.

"Kamski, eh? Any relation?"

Elodie hadn't planned to be a subject of interest, and now she thoroughly regretted entering the bar without Connor. At least then the android could have provided distraction. When she didn't answer straight away, averting her eyes as she attempted to gather herself, Hank spoke again.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with that plastic prick that barged in here earlier?" 

Elodie chuckled nervously as Jimmy slid her drink across the bar. Think fast, she told herself, change the subject.

"Um ... You wouldn't be Hank Anderson, would you?"

"Why the fuck's a Kamski asking who I am?"

"Well, actually, it's all a very funny story really. Um, I can tell elaborate, but first I need you to confir—"

"Listen, kid." Hank said, straightening up in his seat. With the motion it became obvious how expansive his frame was. "I'm not going nowhere with Kamski. So you can take your little toy out there and fuck off back to Cyberlife. Pronto."

Elodie inhaled sharply. She had expected pushback, but there were barriers and there were walls. It was obvious that Hank was a wall, and a solid one at that. The bar he'd chosen should've been warning enough, but unfortunately she hadn't heeded it. Now she was forced to think on her feet, despite how little she knew about the detective.

She tried to think about what her brother would have done. It was hard to consider Elijah coming across any form of resistance, but she could see that Hank Anderson had no love for their namesake. Reaching down to the bar, she picked up her drink, the outside of the glass sweaty with a light layer of condensation. 

Lifting it to her lips, she took a gulp, then another. As much as Elodie disliked drinking, the affect of a depressant on her system tended to be sure fire way to still the nerves that came with being around people. It was her crutch in social settings, slowing down the world and her body just enough for her to react to the things going on around her.

When she polished off her drink, she placed the glass down on the bar, glancing back towards Hank. Though the hostility lingered, she could detect the slightest change, a hint of surprise in the part of his lips. She wiped her mouth against the back of her hand, pushing a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"I don't particularly want to be talking to you either, lieutenant. But I don't have a choice. The android out there has been made by Cyberlife to assist in the decommissioning of deviants and you're the officer assigned to help us, so I suppose you don't have much say in the matter either. But I'm willing to negotiate, to make things more comfortable for you."

"Negotiate? Pah!" Hank let out a string of laughter. He punctuated this with a slam of his fist against the top of the bar, his glass of whiskey trembling on the countertop. "What the fuck do you have to negotiate? I don't want one of those stinkin' androids if you're going to off—"

"You seem to value your liquor. I can also assume that a job in law enforcement is hardly lucrative. Would I be right?"

Hank grumbled something under his breath, but he allowed her to continue.

"Well, if you cooperate with Cyberlife, then I'd be willing to ask for a budget to cover your drinking expenses. For an entire calendar year."

Hank's eyebrows flew upwards. He looked towards Jimmy, who threw his hands upwards in response, before taking Elodie's empty glass to wash it. The lieutenant was lost for words for a moment, looking down at the bar. Finally, he ran a hand through his grey hair, swearing under his breath.

"Well why didn't you lead with that?" He replied, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I'll come with you. But if that thing gets in my fuckin' way, don't be surprised if you have to tighten its screws."

Elodie had to stop herself short of explaining that androids did not, in fact, have screws. Instead she smiled, nodding as she hopped down from her bar seat. Hank let out a sigh, picking up his glass and, in one smooth movement, tipped it upwards, emptying the rest of the contents into his mouth. Swallowing, he placed his glass down, shaking his head.

"A fuckin' Kamski, in this dump. Can you believe this shit? Someone's gotta be pulling something on me, huh?"

"I dunno, Hank." Jimmy replied. "You're the one agreeing to it."