HERE WE GO! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE. THIS STORY IS SET IN DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN. BEAUTIFUL GAME! I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND PLAYING OR WATCHING SOMEONE PLAY IT.

ANYWAY, I LEAVE YOU ALL TO THE STORY.

GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

"Alexandra, come down here, please!" Dad calls, and I set my book down.

"Coming!" I call, coming down the stairs and spotting Dad's friend, Mr. Kamski (addressing him formally seems right, considering he started Cyberlife) and - Shoot! I trip over my feet and almost go crashing into either Mr. Kamski or Dad, but something hard (too hard to be human) catches me, easily setting me upright again. I blink. Is that an android? "Thank you." I mumble, my eye noting the android who caught me is an RK200 model, serial number 684 842 971, to be exact. I ignore that, turn and smile at our, uh, other guest.

"You're welcome." The android muses, smiling and sounding genuine as I move to greet Mr. Kamski.

"Mr. Kamski! How nice to see you." I greet politely, accepting his hug briefly before allowing him to kiss my cheek.

"Hello, my dear. I'd like you to meet Markus, you and your father's new domestic android." I turn to him, offering my hand for him to shake.

"Hello, Markus." I greet. Markus seems puzzled for a second, then shakes my hand.

"I look forward to getting to know you and your father." I can't help but think his design attractive, as if Mr. Kamski knew I'd like the look of this new addition to the house. Like he could read my thoughts, Mr. Kamski smirks.

"I'll leave you all to get acquainted. I'll see you around, my friend." He says in parting to Dad. Dad sniffs, but nods.

"Yes, if you must." He says. I wave Mr. Kamski goodbye and turn to Markus.

"Um...I suppose I'll give you the tour, shall I?" I suggest, feeling out of place and awkward. How exactly does one talk to an android? Markus nods.

"That would be most helpful. After all, I need to be familiar with the layout to better serve my purpose." I swallow. It was hard not to hear the robotic, clinical edge to Markus' voice, even when it was meant to sound human.

"Right. Uh...This is the living room." I announce, leading Markus into the area Dad and I spent most of our days in. "Dad likes to spend a lot of time in here. We sometimes play chess, read books, or play piano." I note. Markus' LED temple light briefly flashes yellow.

"Understood, Alexandra." He replies, hands clasped behind his back. I lead the way into the studio and sigh heavily.

"This is where I come sometimes to paint and to think." I then clear my throat. "Ah, this is the studio." I clarify. Markus' light again blinks yellow and he nods.

"Is this all the ground floor?" I shake my head.

"No, there's the kitchen. This way." I note, and show him around. Markus even opens the fridge, his light yellow as he takes in everything. "And now we go upstairs." I note, smiling. We head up, Dad watching without comment.

"I admire your father's sense of interior decorating." Markus notes, gazing around. "It is well organized and pleasing to look at." I nod.

"Yeah, you'll get used to it." I note, opening Dad's bedroom door. "This is Dad's bedroom. He likes to be woken up around 10:00 in the morning and loves bacon and eggs with black coffee." Why was I telling him all this added information?

"Thank you, Alexandra. This is most helpful to establish how I may best fit into your daily routine." I lick my lips.

"No problem. Um, this is my room, and that's...the guest bedroom." I continue, motioning to the doors. Markus' head tilts when he looks into the room Leo usually uses during his infrequent visits.

"Has this room been used recently?" He asks. "There is little to no dust and the sheets are clean." I nod.

"Yeah. My half-brother, Leo, typically uses this room."

"Does Leo not live here?" Markus asks. I shake my head.

"No. He doesn't. Whenever his mom makes him, he comes and spends the weekend with us, but that's becoming less and less frequent." Markus nods.

"Thank you." I smile.

"No problem. Um, considering it's almost dinner time, let's go make dinner, okay?" Markus nods obediently.

"Of course." I suggest macaroni and cheese with ham chunks and peas and Markus agrees as I search for the recipe I use.

"Here. I prefer this recipe." I note, handing it to him. Markus' light goes yellow and he then goes to the fridge. Soon enough, we're stirring the sauce and waiting for the macaroni to cook fully.

"Might I ask you a personal question, Alexandra?" Markus asks. I nod.

"I'm all ears." I reply. Markus tilts his head slightly.

"I noted on a scan that you have a synthetic left eye, left forearm, and bottom of your right leg. And that your father's legs were paralyzed by injury. How did that happen?" I swallow.

"'Bout a month ago...we were in an accident. Malfunction in our car's software. We tumbled into an electric fence, and the parts that had to be replaced were burned in the resulting gas fire. Well, except the eye. That had a piece of the windshield stuck in it." Markus seems to wince, almost in sympathy.

"That….sounds painful." I shrug.

"Honestly, I don't remember most of it. Traumatic memory repression and all." I then clear my throat. "Macaroni's done." I note as an excuse to avoid further probing that particular hornet's nest. My skin was already prickling just telling Markus about the accident.

=#=#= (Three Months After Markus Arrives) =#=#=

"Dad, come on! It's just one night out! It won't kill you!" I bark.

"You go. You have fun." Dad replies, waving me away.

"No, Dad. Come with me, please."

"Carl, if I may, fresh air and social outings are -"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Markus!" Dad snaps. "Stay outta this! Please!" Markus takes a step back, face impassive. Over these three months, Dad's only warmed up enough to Markus to use his registered name and pleasantries like 'please' and 'thank you'. I huff.

"Dad, this is ridiculous! All I'm asking is to watch a movie with you."

"And, while I appreciate the thought, my answer is still no." I stubbornly stomp my foot and turn to Markus.

"Fine. Will you go with me, Markus?" I ask. Markus blinks, and a small smirk graces his face (I may have taught him some facial expressions and when to use them).

"Alternatively, we could stay in the house, watch a movie here. I saw the ingredients for popcorn in the kitchen. I can make some and no one has to lose in this scenario." I smile.

"You'd do that?"

"Yes. Shall I start making it now?" My smile widens.

"Yes, please. This way, we can all enjoy the evening together." I move toward to movie cabinet. I looked at the older section. "Hmmm...what about Rampage? It's from 2018."

"Nah, pick something a little less intense, please." Dad suggests, wheeling over to the 'refreshments' table and grabbing a glass and the scotch bottle.

"Dad, the doctor said -"

"The doc can complain all he wants. I'm far too old to be bossed around." Dad interjects. I roll my eyes, smile, and continue browsing.

"Oooh! Shaun of the Dead!" I propose.

"No!" I sigh. I was, apparently, the only one who thoroughly enjoyed Edgar Wright without being programmed to 'find it entertaining'. The 'Cornetto Trilogy' were three of my favorite movies.

"Okay, you can't say no to Princess Bride!" I call, holding up the case. Dad chuckles.

"You know what? I'm feeling nostalgic. Go ahead." I fist-pump and skip over to the player, queuing it up as Markus' popcorn begins popping. By the time Markus gets back with the popcorn, we're ready. Markus sits at my left side when I motion him over, with Dad beside the love seat in his wheelchair. I try not to blush. I can't help it when a cute man sits next to me, android or not!

I also can't help making a fool of myself by quoting what's about to be said with popcorn in my mouth. This time, I really do blush.

"Sorry." I mumble, swallowing the popcorn as Buttercup bargains for her love's life. Dad was asleep next to me. Markus merely smiles.

"No worries, Alexandra." I feel suddenly a little bolder and smirk at him.

"You know, you can call me 'Alex'." Markus frowns.

"But, that isn't your name." I chuckle quietly.

"Well, we humans tend to shorten our names when we're familiar with each other. We call that shortened name a 'nickname'. Mine is 'Alex'." Markus smiles.

"You believe we are familiar enough with each other to utilize this 'nickname'?" I nod.
"Oh, yeah. And, if you want, your nickname could be 'Mark'." Markus' grin grows.

"That sounds...good." He says, blinking rapidly like the thought was just now occurring to him. I then look at Dad, passed out on the couch.

"I think we should get him to bed."

Markus chuckles. "It does appear that way." Markus scoops Dad up so gently, the TV turning off as Markus stands back up. Dad doesn't even stir as Markus carries him effortlessly upstairs. I follow and give Markus a thumbs up when he emerges from laying Dad down. "Are you going to sleep, as well?" Markus asks. I yawn.

"Yeah." We start to go our separate ways. "Mark?" He turns, smiling at the use of his nickname. "Goodnight." He nods.

"Goodnight, Alex."

=#=#= (One Year After Markus Arrives) =#=#=

"You reached your distance goal, but not quite the time goal." Markus reports. I groan.

"Damnit! Ah, well." I heave in another breath, leaning over. "Agh, you're so lucky you don't get tired." I grumble good-naturedly, still panting heavily.

"I suppose. One of the benefits of being an android." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." We enter through the studio, where Dad was busily painting the garden, in an effort to 'scrub the rust off my painting gears'.

Markus had asked what that meant and, through laughter, I explained that humans like to equivalate their brain to a machine, and personify other things, sometimes. Then Markus had asked if that's how the idea of an android came about, personifying things, and I didn't have an answer for him. Dad had then recommended that Mark read Plato. Markus found it intriguing and liked to talk philosophy with Dad sometimes.

It was remarkable how far Dad had come in his opinion of androids. He'd started treating Markus like a friend, always patiently explaining something Markus didn't understand.

I, however, had started to, despite knowing he was incapable of returning the feeling, develop something of a crush on him. He never minded (because of his programming) whatever I asked him to do. I'd even started basic piano lessons with him while I practiced violin. Dad slowly began to join in and together we began to note something as close to a human personality as was possible for Markus.

I shake my head to clear it and make myself some chocolate milk before returning to the studio. Markus, it seemed, wanted to read more Shakespeare. He liked reading more about human emotions to discuss them with Dad. It was amazing to watch Markus become more and more...human, if it were possible.

I begin stretching and watch Dad paint. On the canvas, he was painting Markus and I, smiling and looking at a book together, the autumn leaves flitting to the ground. Beside him, he has a photo for reference. I blush.

"You took a picture yesterday?" I ask. Dad shrugs.

"Yes. You two were being so sweet, I couldn't help it." I shake my head, but my blush increases.

"We were reading Hamlet and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were being idiots. It wasn't what you're thinking." Though you wanted it to be. I think miserably. Markus wouldn't mind if I asked if I could kiss him, but I wanted it to mean something. I wanted to kiss him and have him kiss me back, not just sit there and accept it.

"You know, he'd probably like the idea of you two dating." Dad muses, brushing up the tree trunk and smirking like he'd read my exact thoughts.

"That's the problem! He likes the idea of dating, but he wouldn't feel the romantic attraction that makes a relationship work. He'd like the act of kissing and stuff, but just because he's programmed to. It's not the same." Dad hums in thought for a moment.

"Who knows? Maybe one day, he'll find out what love is." I smile.

"And not just the dictionary definition." I tease, standing up and putting my right foot a table to stretch it. Dad laughs.

"Know what? I need more paints. I'll ask Markus to order 'em and you two can run down there to pick 'em up tomorrow, kay?" I blush.

"Dad!" I whine, trying to smack his arm, but end up overbalancing and falling. Markus appears in the doorway.

"Is everything alright?" He asks. My blush intensifies as I stand up.

"Y-yes. Um...Dad said he needs more paints. He wants us to pick them up tomorrow morning. I'll let him tell you which ones while I start dinner." I stammer and race out, Dad's laughter and Markus' question about what happened in my ears.

=#=#= (The Next Morning) =#=#=

"Why did you seem nervous yesterday?" Markus asks when our run is over. I flush.

"Well, did you see what Dad was painting?" Markus nods.

"Yes. He took our picture while we were reading Hamlet." I nod. "Why would that make you anxious?"

"Well, I wasn't aware that he had that picture and was painting it." I explain, hoping he bought it. He nods, seeming to leave it at that. "Let's get those paints."

"Yes. We should be able to return home before Carl needs to be woken up." I smile.

"So, let's get going!" I prompt. I take Markus' hand and lead him to Bellini's. The lovely cashier android greets us and Markus scans his hand. Moments later, we were on our way. I take Markus' hand again and walk with him. There were protestors out, as usual, but we kept our distance. Markus seemed curious, but I steered him clear.

"They're just losers sore about losing their jobs." I grumble.

"To what?" Markus presses.

"To, ah...androids. Androids are proving more and more efficient and people don't like it." I explain, shrugging. "Personally, I don't see their problem. There are jobs humans are more qualified than androids for, but those idiots would rather sit on their butts then try to find them." Markus hums, frowning in thought.

"Humans are such an intriguing species." I smirk.

"That we are."