• • •

Date
AUG 15TH, 2038

Model RK800
Serial#: 313 248 317 - 51
Reboot ... >>Complete<<

Checking Biocomponents ... OK
Initializing Biosensors ... OK
Initializing AI Engine ... OK

All Software: Active
Mission: Find Amanda

Connor opened his eyes to the brightness of a quiet garden through which morning sunlight danced in rays separated by the heavy branches of tall trees. In their leaves, he could hear the quiet whisper of a breeze as it joined the hiding birds in a song meant to accompany him as he took his first step into the warmth of his new safe haven. The path was laid out for him so clearly, weaving white cobblestones throughout the garden and around the central lake and its single central island. Nature embraced him on both sides, and he took it all in with the serenity and curiosity of someone seeing everything for the very first time. 

Though there was much he could observe, from the lotus leaves on the surface of the water, to the carefully arranged stones and the perfectly lined patterns in the sand areas shaded by trees right besides his path, his one task required him to find the one person currently no where to be seen. Taking the scenic route became a necessity, and as he let his feet carry him around the lake, he indulged his attention with tracing the beauty of the water's surface, morning light painting out patterns of golden glows across its stilled shine. He wondered, for a brief moment, if there were any fish in there at all, waking up just then to a calm, warm day.

Just as his walk would have required him to make a turn to the left, his peripheral vision alerted him of two changes in this environment otherwise embodying a constant state of perfection, something which, though statistically impossible to ever describe a scenery of nature, by definition inherited with the imperfection predilection of the living beings it comprised itself of, he accepted as it was. To his left, waiting under the shade of a tree bent over the path to create a half cupola of leaves and branches braided within one another, Amanda was waiting for him, watching the lake and seemingly unaware of his presence. To his right however, in a clearing of bright green grass freshly cut, just two steps off his path, something peculiar stood out to him just about enough to prompt him to turn right and look down, eyes squinted. 

A printed picture, his scanners identified for him and though Connor's processing unit was adamant in reminding him with a translucent pop-up on the edge of his field of vision that he ought to talk with Amanda first, he took a measured step off the garden path and into the grass, bending down to one knee in order to turn over the picture. Holding its fragile state as gently as he could in the palm of his hand, he frowned ever so slightly at the degradation damaging well over half of it. The only side of it still visible though depicted a woman he had never seen before, smiling brightly towards the camera her body posture told him she was holding up herself when the picture was taken. 

Red hair, bright green eyes, a wide smile. I would have recognized her if we ever met, Connor concluded, despite his thought processes conferring him only more questions. What is her picture doing here? Who is she?

"Connor?" Amanda called out to him just as he was about to scan the picture for facial recognition, thus making him drop his current tasks and get up.

"Coming, Amanda," he turned around, but did not let go of the picture. For some reason, he held onto it tighter now that his steps led him down the path to Amanda. The latter greeted him with a cordial smile, finally acknowledging his presence by turning her gaze away from their garden's little lake.

"Connor," she repeated his name with some warmth. "It's so good to see you," her eyes, studying him from top to bottom, stopped on his hands. "What is that?"

"I found a picture," he held it up, but did not even consider turning it over to Amanda, though his processing unit reminded him she was to be trusted, fact that he otherwise did not question in any way whatsoever. Hadn't he known better, he would have self-diagnosed himself as protective over the picture.

"You found it?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing on him now that it was visible he preferred looking down at he picture and the woman it depicted rather than at Amanda. "Here?"

"Yes," Connor nodded before tilting his head to the side. "I do not recognize the woman and my scanners are not returning anything. It looks like she took the picture with someone, but that side of it is completely destroyed."

"It's a glitch," Amanda straightened up upon giving him a stern verdict, her hands joining in front of herself as she inhaled sharply. "This place is brand new, specifically constructed to serve you, but it is not as faultless as it seems. Please," she raised her right hand, palm facing upwards, "hand the picture over so I can report the detected bug to CyberLife."

Hand the picture over, Connor had to be given the prompt in an echo by his processing unit in order to do more than stare at Amanda's hand. Even then, the words constructed by his wish to ask to hold onto the picture had his voice synthesizer hesitating to allow him to speak up. 

"We have important matters to discuss, Connor," Amanda hurried him, her smile gone. "Or have you forgotten you've been activated for a mission?"

Remembering his purpose of activation, his priority system kicked into motion, releasing the tension from Connor's shoulders and making him place the picture in Amanda's waiting hand within the next second.

"Wonderful," Amanda closed her fist on the picture which, turning first into pixelated blocks of color, glitched out of existence by the time her hand was fully closed upon it. He was given no time to ponder on the disappearance of it also corrupting his memory of the red haired woman he could barely even remember the eye color of anymore, because she continued, taking his attention away from the data slipping away from him, "A defective android has just taken a child hostage on a rooftop at 1554 Parks Avenue. You will be deployed to handle the negotiations with the deviant. First responders have described it as violent and erratic. Your mission is to report to Captain Allen, understand what happened and save the hostage at all costs."

"I understand," Connor nodded, everything about the picture now gone from his memory as his processing unit identified an updated mission to move priority upon. There was nothing left but a trace of something warm that should have been in his hand but was no longer there. A mild sensory malfunction, he explained it away when, inside the elevator, his coin did well to cover up the sensation. 

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If you chose to 'Let Mia handle it'
in Chapter Twenty-Nine, the section
below unlocks. If you chose to
'Let Connor handle it', skip ahead to
the final Author's Note at the end
of this chapter ...

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Date
NOV 10TH, 2038

The buzz of the radio could be heard from all the way outside the cabin where, in only the past hour, the path shoveled free of snow was once again almost indistinguishable from the garden blanketed in white, spreading on both sides. Icicles hung by the edges of the roof, and the window sill pots turned themselves into white pillars blocking out the warm yellow light making it out from within the home, even through the barrier of pulled curtains. 

There was no 'welcome' written on the front door rug, because so far into the forest people scarcely had business travelling anyway. Instead, the brown abrasive surface, a stepping stone to entering the home, was marked by the outlines of boots stomped clean of snow and paws, too excited to stand still before the door opened. In their own way, those marks were their own greeting sign, continuing its marked poetry to the puddles one would find underneath the boots left to the side of the door as soon as one would step in. Right beside them, a shovel was still shedding away over a towel the remnants of snow.

It was a little early for Christmas decorations to find their way up their walls, but that did not stop the boxes from the shed in the back from being brought inside, warming up in the far corner to the door's right. There, they waited quietly for the end of the month and for the whole cabin to start smelling like pine tree again.

Though there was fire cackling in the corner of the living room right ahead of the entrance door, the radio Connor kept on the coffee table before the couch took the prize as the loudest inhabitant of the cabin, at least for now. Signal was sparse, but over the past couple of months, the news he was overhearing have drawn him to go that extra mile of holding his hand firmly wrapped around the antenna just so he could hear it all.

With his eyes narrowing down in focus and his LED, still on his temple, flashing blue, Connor adjusted the antenna one last time, hoping to make out the end of the news segment that had placed him on the edge of his seat for most of the day.

"... celebrations postponed." Connor froze his entire limb in place the second he could clearly recognize the voice of one of the hosts. 

"They brought us back to replace those God awful androids on our show only for President Warren to announce a national curfew. Can you believe it?" Timmy sighed out, his voice still distorted every few words by a break of static interference, one albeit manageable enough for Connor not to want to readjust the antenna again.

"It's a grim day indeed," Patrick agreed breathlessly with his co-host. "Tonight, Americans all around the country are kissing goodbye their rights to assembly and every single means of electronic communication. And all because CyberLife's product took to the streets following their abhorrent demands."

"Fact is, this might as well be our last broadcast for a while, here at Classic Rock," Timmy took over. "I don't expect this conflict to be done before Christmas. Stay strong out there, folks. I am Timmy."

"And this is Patrick."

"And we're leaving you with a timeless-"

The sound of steps had Connor flinch his hand off the antenna and thus succumb the connection back to a continuous buzz of interference. His eyes raised just in time to see Mia hurry down the corridor to the right, a metal box in hand. It took her only one glance at him and the coffee table to roll her eyes, "You can listen to it while I am here too, you know." 

"I know," Connor reassured her smiling at the sight of their dog, tapping along behind her, tail waggling as if the box she was holding was his treat. With a sight like this, the news from a home he no longer knew didn't seem to matter all that much any more. He leant back on the couch and made room for his new life to sit down beside him. "But I already heard all I needed to hear."

"And?" Mia questioned, taking her seat next to him and placing her metal box on the coffee table, right next to his radio. Once her hands were free, their silver furred dog had managed to sneak himself into laying across both their laps as some sort blanket, something his fluff did not make it all that impossible. Nonetheless, such a position wordlessly demanded of Mia to spare at least her right hand with giving pets of acknowledgement, even while her left sought to hold Connor's somewhere beneath the warmth of their companion. "How is it going over there?"

He shrugged, shaking his head, "They don't seem to know Elijah Kamski made the deviants, but really, I should not be surprised. He managed to cover up the charges Officer Brady raised with those case files after all." 

Thinking back on choosing to send the files to his work partner, Connor wasn't entirely sure he regretted it, even though he failed to take into consideration Brady too had a lot to lose, a lot Mr. Kamski could threaten and use to buy his silence. Then again, making the case files public instead would have had even less of a chance of actually hurting the man, so easily capable of hiding internet records or claiming forgery due to the anonymity of the source. 

"It doesn't matter though," he ultimately shook his head, finding comfort in the way Mia rubbed her thumb over his hand, even while unable to find the right words for him. He lifted her hand from the couch, from underneath their dog just happy to be there, in a warm house, rather than in the cold abandoned factory they found him hiding in, a good long while ago. Once her knuckles met his lips, he smiled, shamelessly enjoying knowing she could feel that movement on her skin, "I am just glad you aren't in that city anymore." Before silence had a chance to seep in between them, Connor turned his attention to the box she placed on their table. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes," she beamed at the subject change, her little jump of excitement getting the dog to move off their lap and sit himself next to Connor's foot instead, just in time to watch Mia reach over to the table to show the box off. "A.C.E. 2.0. The new and improved, all ready for its very first test." 

"What are we waiting for then?" Connor too leant forward, shutting off the radio and the background noise it had, until then, formed for them. On his way to leaning back, his left hand dropped atop their dog's head, something his furred companion for perimeter checks around the cabin very much enjoyed.

Mia preferred to slide off the couch and drop to her knees to be closer to the box shaped robot. After generously clearing her throat and making a clear show of the fact that she did not use her hands to turn the little thing on, she called it by the line she had programmed it to respond to, "A.C.E., would you like to be friends?"

The screen lit up and a pair of pixelated eyes were displayed on it as it blinked awake. Immediately, the dog barked, short and loud, announcing that he was aware of the little intruder. 

"Hello," the box robot greeted, and through its recording, it took in all three beings it woke up to, framing them each in a square of their own, labelled accordingly. "My name is A.C.E.. I'm an Advanced Conversation Engine designed to become anyone's best friend. Who are you?" Its displayed expression changed to one raising its eyebrows at them, something that, though it could not explain it, made the woman and the man before him smile.

With the introductions underway, A.C.E. gradually changed the labels of the boxes framing the beings in range of sight. 'Woman' changed to 'Mia', 'Dog' changed to 'Buddy' and 'Man' changed to 'Connor'.

"It's nice to meet you all," A.C.E.'s voice mimicked the cadence of a smile's influence over its tone. "Would you like to be my first friends?"

Mia looked back over her shoulder at Connor, prompting him to hold out his hand and take hers again, before redirecting his smile down to the little robot recording its first minutes of function. "Of course."

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You have read
' SEQUENTIAL '

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• FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE •

Thank you so much for supporting this book and me throughout the process of getting it completed.

It's been a wild ride, across a story which, at its core, taught acceptance towards life's very nature of dependency to the choices we make each and every day. In retrospective, life may look like a sequence of events, happening one after the other, but that is a painting possible only through micro-choices, each of them having consequences of their own, deciding how everything will look like in the end.

This is what I have attempted to achieve through a dual ending for this book, along with underlining the conclusion to Connor's love for humanity and Mia's glorifying of the machines: true perfection lays in neither of those alone, but in their existence combined.

Of course, I could go on for hours about the symbolism and themes throughout this story — Mia's loneliness, Connor's growth into a living being culminating with facing 'his old self' in the very end, the destructive side of unconditional love and how it remains its truest form, the undefeatable enemies towards which the best revenge is to live on etc. —, but with the story at its end, I believe it would be a better time to let you, dear reader, reflect on the meanings of it all instead. ( Do share your thoughts, if you'd like! I would enjoy to see what themes have appealed to you the most and why. Or if you've drawn some curious conclusions at all. ) 

I, for one, have a sweet headcanon to share: Mia building more little robots like A.C.E. 2.0. is their equivalent of having children really, because 100% Connor will start helping her around on these projects.

If you kept up with my previous author's notes, you may also know that I have been thinking from about the middle of the book how this story could in fact have a continuation. Since it is very unlikely that I will write it any time in the foreseeable future ( some stories don't need sequels, and I like this story's ending too much to add into the lore a chapter of the character's lives which, frankly, could be quite sad ), I will share the prompt here, as a sort of blurb, tease, subject of discussion between author and readers, if you will:

Mr. Kamski builds the Mia AI from memory and it turns out just as dislocated from reality as the Amanda one has, thus he ends up installing it into RK900, who would eventually, growing the same weakness as the model he is supposed to be the better of, finish the only mission Connor did not complete — make Kamski pay.

With that being said, thank you for sticking with me to the end! It's been a fabulous journey and I am so grateful to have had this much support writing this story.

Once again, thank you for reading!

Signed,
izabela // llxcifers