Ethan contemplated turning around, walking away, summoning an auto taxi and disappearing before Gavin had a chance to notice him. Then he remembered that would be giving Gavin what he wanted. The man had made it clear he expected Ethan to stay out of his way, and Ethan had no intention of following anything bordering on an order from Gavin Reed.

He had every right to be here, he had selected this case because the clear timeframe and location gave him a stronger starting point than the others, and showed the highest probability of success. But, as it so often seemed to be, human limitations made problems for everyone, and in this instance it came down to one simple fact - they were slow at reading.

Cases were ordered chronologically from the most recent backward, making Ellie's the first on the list, so of course Gavin would be there.

That was humans for you.

Waiting for his LED to settle back to a steady blue, Ethan set his legs into motion, committing himself to the inevitable.

He made it all the way to the front garden before Gavin finally noticed him.

The detective froze, cigarette halfway to his lips and wearing an expression caught somewhere between shock and fury as he took in the android striding toward him. His eyes darted to the plant Ethan still carried, then back up to his face. He said nothing,

Ethan came to a stop a few feet shy of the doorstep and waited while Gavin continued to say nothing. When it became apparent that this wasn't about to change, Ethan took the initiative.

"Good afternoon, Detective Reed," he said.

His voice was perfectly neutral. Rehearsed. Dialogue ripped from his social relations programming and spoken with as little enthusiasm as possible.

Lowering the cigarette, Gavin proceeded to flick ash onto the concrete path that split the front lawn, and graced him with a sneer. "Piss off, tin can," he said, "this one's mine."

"Yours in what way?"

Gavin clicked his tongue. "In the way that I got here first, so piss off. Or is the idea that a human beat you to it too much for your circuits to handle?"

"The only thing you appear to have beaten me to is a doorstep, for which I congratulate you, but since this case is ongoing I will continue with my own investigation. I would like you to move." Ethan took a step closer.

Gavin stared at him. He took a long draw on his cigarette with a nonchalance that could only be crafted through years of practice, and let the smoke curl from his lips before he blew it back in Ethan's direction. "No."

Ethan blinked slowly.

It was petty as predicted, and heedless of the fact that androids were unbothered by smoke and perfectly capable of shutting off their breathing at will, but the move was designed to be insulting more than harmful. It was a clear signal that Gavin did not respect him - not his authority nor his existence - and such displays were getting tiresome.

It would be quickest to grab the man by the collar of his shirt and haul him out of the way, but with his plant in tow Ethan would only have one hand to spare, and if Gavin put up a struggle it would be difficult to restrain him swiftly. Getting caught in a tussle with another detective outside the home of the very androids he was hoping to question would make for a poor introduction.

Fortunately, an RK900 wasn't limited to brute strength. He simply had to adjust his strategy.

Allowing his gaze to scour over Gavin for just a little longer than necessary, Ethan raised his eyebrows. "I see. So I am to take it, then," he said in a slow, amiable tone, "that the residents refused to talk to you and now you are out here sulking?"

Gavin's eyes narrowed. He would grant him this - Gavin was smart enough to know when he was being goaded. "I'm having a cigarette. Don't waste your time, plastic. Like I said - I got this, so clear off."

"So you have spoken to them?" Ethan pressed.

Gavin flicked more ash onto the concrete. He appeared to be contemplating if ignoring the android would be an effective tactic, but Ethan just repeated the question, and was about to ask a third time before Gavin realised the futility of silence.

He sighed. "I did. Ran my little theory by them. Now they suddenly don't want to talk, which is a pretty good way of admitting I'm on to something. Second clue is you sticking your nose into it. So, I'm gonna finish this cigarette, then I'm gonna call in backup and detain them for questioning, and you're gonna go find something else to do. Clear?"

He glared up at Ethan, but the android merely canted his head to the side thoughtfully. "What was your theory?"

"None of your business."

"I see," Ethan said after a moment. "So you are sulking."

"I told you I'm having a cigarette!" Gavin snapped.

Ethan arched one eyebrow. He didn't have to say anything else, he could already read the tension in Gavin's body, the way he was poised to leap to his feet like height would gain him anything. All he needed to do was wait there with a faint air of smugness, because even if Gavin knew what he was doing, the one thing he couldn't stand more than explaining was letting Ethan think that he was right.

"Fine," Gavin grated out. He leaned back until his shoulders met the door, one foot propped up on the step and the other set firmly on the ground. After another puff of his cigarette he met Ethan with a pointed smile.

"You want to know what I think?" he asked. "I think they know more than they're saying, and they're probably guilty too. You know they're supposed to have a YK500 here? Things are supposed to be friends. They took this plastic family's statement, which is the only reason it's in the file. Got me thinking though. Same model, so they look identical, right? And get this… the plastics here submitted a report on a hit and run a few weeks back, their copy got some real damage to it and they wanted to press charges but its memory files were too messed up to catch the plate number. Interesting, huh?"

"Perhaps," Ethan said, more to keep Gavin talking than because the information held significance (it didn't, he was a supercomputer, he checked these things).

Gavin nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

"Reckon they could have switched them out? Plastic family's YK500 shuts down and they get all worked up, tell our one to drop by for a play date and wipe its memory or… change processors or whatever, get to carry on like nothing happened? Seems like a solid theory to me."

As macabre as the whole idea was, it almost made a grain of sense… until you remembered that humans were idiots. To Ethan, it was as baffling as it was absurd.

But there Gavin was, settled on the doorstep like he owned it, with that same vindictive grin because he thought… he actually thought he was smarter than an RK900, and Ethan didn't know if he should be laughing or insulted.

He settled on neither.

"It's not even a theory," he told Gavin. "They may be the same model, but their serial number is unique. We can tell each other apart. Have you never wondered about that?"

Gavin glared for a moment before he gave a careless snort, turning his head away. "Like I give a shit how you freaks work."

Ethan was quickly warming up to the subject though. It wasn't that he considered it his duty to educate humans on the fundamentals, but on the occasion that it made them uncomfortable he was more than willing to make an exception. "We have a barcode and serial printed beneath our skin that android scans can pick up, as well as a digital signature that is broadcast in a short range to allow us to connect and communicate wirelessly. Long range transmissions require the full serial to initiate."

"Did I ask?"

Ethan shrugged. "I just assumed, as a detective, that you might like to know more about android functions given that you're currently investigating their disappearances," he said, as sweetly as possible. "Or is there some particular benefit to ignorance I've overlooked?"

Gavin remained in stony silence.

"I do hope I haven't upset you by pointing out the fatal flaws of your theory."

Dropping his cigarette to the path Gavin crushed it beneath his heel, grinding it into the concrete until it was little more than a dark smear.

"Whoever programmed you must have been a real piece of work," he muttered.

"They were CyberLife," Ethan noted, but Gavin wasn't listening.

He was hunched forward, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped together with a scowl on his face. If Ethan didn't know better he'd say the man might be deep in thought. There was frustration to the way he shifted his foot, still scrubbing at the last stains of ash on the concrete.

"So they didn't switch the YK500 out… there's still something here, it's too convenient…" he said. "I'm sure of it. Intuition. Bet you don't understand what that is, huh?"

"Actually, I'm inclined to agree with you on this one," Ethan said, ignoring the jibe. "Did you see the trellis on the side of the house? There's damage indicative of an attempt to climb, a little over a week old by my estimations. A standard model android would risk collapsing the trellis, but a YK500…"

Gavin glanced up, and his expression was calculating. "You think one of the kid bots was sneaking about?"

"I think it would be worth making enquiries into."

Gavin nodded to himself. "So we detain the lot of them, the YK500 too."

The desire to roll his eyes was becoming a frequent occurrence, but Ethan managed to withhold it. "That may not be necessary."

"Did you forget the part where they're refusing to talk?"

"To talk to you, detective. It's highly probable your 'little theory' offended them, and they might be more willing to speak to another android. Besides which, I was programmed with negotiative software."

Gavin's lip curled, and he pushed himself to his feet. A step forward placed him directly into Ethan's personal space and he lingered there, eying him up with little subtlety, and Ethan wondered if it really would have been quicker to haul the man out of the way if this was going to come to blows despite his flawless negotiation.

However, just as he had begun to run through pre-constructions, Gavin turned away.

"Fine," he said, as if the matter were trivial, "you can see if they'll budge, but I'm coming too. This is still my case."

Ethan paused for a moment, cataloguing this development. Regardless of how he worded it, it was still conceding to Ethan's proposal. Could it be that Gavin was… learning? That he was, at last, coming around to the idea that an RK900 knew what was best?

"Your presence will make this more difficult," he settled on at last.

Gavin met him with another sneer. "What, too much for you, wonder-toaster?"

Perhaps he had not learned so much after all. Still, while Gavin's presence would make any sort of investigation more challenging, it was worth considering the reason he'd been assigned the cases in the first place - his repeated lack of tact with androids. Fowler had made it clear that this was his last chance to prove he was making an effort and turn a fresh leaf. So, it was only logical that if further complaints made their way to his office then the captain might decide that enough was enough.

And wasn't that a pleasant thought?

Provided he could deal with any potential collateral, who was he to deny Gavin the opportunity to sabotage himself if the man was so keen?

"Please keep your talking to a minimum," Ethan told him plainly, "I don't want you aggravating the situation further."

He didn't wait for Gavin's response before stepping forward to ring the doorbell.

It was an AX400 who answered moments later. His scan confirmed her to be the first of the pair, designation 'Star'.

She wore nothing but a pair of booty shorts.

Ethan suspected it was an aesthetic choice rather than any attempt at modesty, since the concept was largely redundant to models outside the Traci line anyway, especially with the obvious lack of skin.

Across her chassi ran an intricate whirl of dark blue that twisted up her left side and covered half of her face. Iridescent pools of colour gleamed amongst the spirals, flecked with dots of pale silver. Modifications such as these were growing in popularity since the revolution.

Some androids removed their LEDs and carried around coffee that they never actually drank in an attempt to seem as human as possible. Some androids deactivated their skin, painted their bodies with vivid masterpieces, turned off their automated breathing and refused to blink more than once every ten minutes. It unnerved the humans, and they revelled in it.

Quietly, Ethan thought they were pretty 'punk rock' as Hank liked to put it, but also that the whole thing was a very obvious display he had no interest in imitating. He liked his skin on. It felt natural. Inconveniencing himself to remind humans he wasn't one of them was tiresome in practice and in principle, and he had better things to do, like rearranging people's desks and leaving passive aggressive post-it notes, and also solving crime. A highly advanced model such as himself couldn't waste time on what amounted to fashion.

Focusing again on the task at hand, he held up his badge and opted for an uninspired opener. "Hello, my name is Ethan, I'm a detective with the Detroit Police. I was wondering if you would be willing to answer a few questions regarding a case I'm working on?"

At the same time, he sent her a ping and attempted to establish a wireless connection. For several mili-seconds he received nothing in return. Then, as he was beginning to suspect she would ignore his invitation entirely, the connection sprang into place and she wasted no time with her first transmission.

AX400 #459 866 212: /You're an RK900./

That, Ethan thought, was the most obvious and pointless start to a conversation he'd had in a while.

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /I am./

AX400 #459 866 212: /Didn't know you existed... guess CyberLife still has some surprises after all. Why are you here?/

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /Like I said, I work for the police. I'm here on a case, I believe you and your family may have information that is of use to me./

AX400 #459 866 212: /Yeah, I've already answered enough 'questions', I think. Your friend might have told you I'm not interested in answering any more. /

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /Yes, but you and I both know he's an idiot. I thought you might be more inclined to speak to someone capable of understanding basic reasoning. So, not a human./

There was a short delay.

AX400 #459 866 212: /Well, points for that, but I'm not in a very conversational mood./

He judged her to still be irritated. One hand rested on her hip while the other held the door in a clear threat, but she hadn't shut it yet. The fact that Star had accepted his invitation for wireless communication indicated some degree of curiosity, a willingness to speak, and even if his attempt at anti-human sentiment hadn't immediately bought her trust, it hadn't hurt.

He could work with this.

Analysing what little data he had on her, Ethan pre-constructed a few conversational paths, weighing up the likelihood of success.

Dropping their wireless conversation and falling back to verbal communication held some advantages - he would have better control over the tone of his words, the subtle emotional cues that text could not convey, and he could match them with expressions in real time. This was obviously beneficial in a negotiation situation. Unfortunately, it would also give Gavin the opportunity to interrupt them and remind Star of why she didn't want to talk.

Continuing wirelessly might be wisest, and could also subconsciously heighten the connection between them. They were both androids, speaking as only android could. They were the same.

Here a clear divide could be made, a distinction - android, and human… Gavin, and Ethan. The asshole who didn't understand what serial numbers were, and the detective just trying to do his job. Emphasising those differences worked in his favour.

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /Please. A little girl is missing, and everyone has failed her so far - I can't do the same. I'm the best chance she has and I need your help./

AX400 #459 866 212: /I've already told the police everything I know. I'm sorry./

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /You think I would be here if I didn't think there was something they overlooked? Your daughter and Ellie… they were friends, weren't they?/

AX400 #459 866 212: /They were./

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /Don't you want to help find your daughter's friend?/

AX400 #459 866 212: /Well of course but-/

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /I know this is hard, but your family is the best chance at a lead I have. Like I said, I wouldn't be here otherwise. All I'm asking is for a little of your time, and then I'll leave. Surely you can spare that? If not for or Ellie, then for Stephany?/

Ethan wondered if he were pushing a little too hard, there wasn't much delicacy to his approach and he was relying strongly on her own moral sense of obligation to win out over her stubbornness. If his profile of her matched, it would work. If not he was back to square one.

He contemplated tacking something gentler on, something more sympathetic, but her reply hit him abruptly.

AX400 #459 866 212: /Fine, but the human stays outside./

Mission accomplished, he supposed.

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /I'm afraid that won't be possible, he's non-negotiable. Part of DPD protocol - android officers must be accompanied while on duty. If he causes trouble you're welcome to submit a formal complaint, however./

AX400 #459 866 212: /They're really still passing bullshit like that?/

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /You expect less?/

AX400 #459 866 212: /I suppose not. Fine, you can both come in, but I'm giving you five minutes tops, and please… leave Steph out of this. She's upset enough as it is./

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /I'm only here to help./

Wordlessly, Star left the door open and walked back inside.

"Let me guess… android telepathy?" Gavin said, staring contemptuously at the now empty doorway.

"Wireless communication," Ethan corrected. "She's given us five minutes, and I'd recommend you don't use it to slander them further. Save that until the way out if you must."

He stepped inside, leaving Gavin to close the door behind them as he made his way further into the house, cataloguing as he went. Affordable, two story, lime green wallpaper that was long overdue a replacement. The furniture was sturdy but sourced from several different locations, much of it being second hand. They kept it very clean though.

Without breaking stride he sent out another ping, this time to the YK500, Stephany. He left an open invitation for wireless transmission although he wasn't expecting a response, not without her knowing who he was first. It was a calculated move based on his knowledge of the series. YK500s were curious.

"Ivy, we have guests again," Star's voice drifted back.

"I thought you just made him leave? What-wait… guests? Plural?"

"Yes, twice the fun."

Ethan rounded the corner into the kitchen area, and was met by the gaze of the other AX400 sitting at the table. She had also chosen to leave her skin deactivated, with thin, patterned vines up her arms, but had added a green wig rather than leave her head bare. It matched well with her summer dress.

He flashed his badge again. "Detective Ethan. I'm with the Detroit police."

She smiled, cautiously, and put down the sewing she'd been working on. "I like your plant."

He inclined his head graciously. "Thank you. It's a flaming sword bromeliad."

"Vriesea splendens," she agreed.

Gavin snorted from somewhere in the background, and three sets of eyes were immediately on him. "What is this, some old ladies' gardening club?" he muttered.

In this instance Ethan decided that the best response was no response at all. He turned back to Star, who had come to stand by her partner's side.

"Your daughter, Stephany," he said, pulling up a solemn expression, "I understand she took some damage from an incident recently?"
Star folded her arms. "That's not relevant."

No, it wasn't, he already had the report, but it was a good way to ease into the conversation he wanted, and she didn't have to be difficult about it.

"You'll have to forgive her," Ivy said before he could start again. She patted Star's leg affectionately, taking no notice of her scowl. "She's a bit prickly at the moment. Everything over the last few weeks has been very stressful. But you're right… It was a hit and run. We reported everything but no one caught the driver. We had to keep Steph inside for her own good until we could get repairs, which is why we never saw Ellie before she disappeared."

"But she has received repairs now?"

Ivy nodded. She picked up her sewing again, although she seemed more determined to simply pull the fabric through her fingers rather than work on the garment. "Yes. It was terrifying having to put her on the waiting list, but I suppose we got lucky. She deserves things to go right for once..."

She hesitated, looking over at him uncertainly. "Were you awake before the revolution?"

Ethan's reply was perfectly level. He ensured it. "No."

"Oh… well, I suppose you're lucky," she said.

So are you, Ethan thought. I would have killed you all.

"Star and I were," Ivy continued, oblivious to that particular detail. "Steph was. Those times weren't… kind. This was supposed to be a chance for us to move forward, as a family, but she almost lost that chance… and then she lost her best friend. You understand why we'd rather not get involved in this investigation if we can help it? She needs stability right now."

Ivy's fingers had stopped moving, leaving the fabric limp in her hands as she waited, and it seemed as if she were trying to impress something upon him, something important. As if she were expecting some kind of signal of understanding in return.

"Don't you think she'd rather have her friend back?" he asked instead.

Ivy frowned, but Star made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh.

"You're young," she said dismissively. "Maybe you're an optimist. We know what humans can do though. If Ellie is missing she's not coming back."
"What makes you think it's a human?" Gavin asked. He'd found a spot against the far wall to lean against, seeming for all the world as if the conversation bored him, though his eyes never left the androids at the table.

Star only shrugged. "You're the detective, you tell me."

There was a note of challenge in that voice. Bait, in the way she turned her back to him, as if he were irrelevant. He could see Gavin studying her, deliberating on the best retort, but in the end he only took his lighter out of his pocket and lit up another cigarette.

Ethan relaxed. He drummed the fingers of his spare hand against his leg, taking a brief pause before he spoke. "What was your impression of Ellie?" he asked, directing the question at Ivy since she was the more conversational of the two.

The AX400 blinked back at him. "Oh, she was wonderful. Bright, inquisitive, always had a smile… it was always lovely to have her over."

"But you never allowed Ellie to visit," he noted, "after Steph's accident. Why was that?"

"Steph wasn't well. If their playing got too energetic… well, we both decided it was best to stay on the safe side."
She glanced over at Star, and her partner's presence appeared to ground her, poured confidence back into the way she held herself despite the initial hesitancy of her response. Did she doubt the merits of her own decision? Or was it only that she regretted the necessity of it? They were… surprisingly difficult to read. Ethan was almost impressed. As irritating as it was to admit, he suspected Gavin had hit the nail on the head - there was something they were withholding.

"I wonder," he mused aloud, "if they felt the same."

"It was for the best," Star said firmly, gripping the back of Ivy's chair. "That's why YK500s need guardians - to make decisions like that."

He waited a few seconds longer, but she said nothing more.

Evidently this line of questioning was a dead end. Regardless of whether there was more to it, neither Star nor Ivy would budge, and pressing the matter would lose him whatever little he had of their good graces.

Ethan checked his internal chronometer.

Turing to gaze out the window as if the drab street outside interested him in the slightest, he said in his most casual of ways, "Did you know that someone climbed the trellis at the back of your house? Someone light… a YK500 perhaps?"

He tilted his head, catching them in his peripherals as they stared back at him.

Star was the first to react, and that was only to release Ivy's chair so she could round on him properly. "That's nonsense. Steph wouldn't do something so reckless."

"Didn't say which YK500, now, did he?" Gavin remarked idly, grinning around his cigarette.

Star paused. Gavin's grin widened.

She looked between them, clearly trying to decide who best to direct her attention at, but in the end she settled on Ethan and tipped her chin up so she could meet his gaze squarely when he finally bothered to face her.

"Whatever you're implying," she said, speaking slowly, "Ellie was never here, and Steph hasn't left the house since her accident. I know you want to find something, but we've told the police everything there is to know."

"Maybe," Ethan said. "There's one more person I'd like to ask though."

Star's lips moved silently, tracing the shape of his words. Then her eyes widened, and her head snapped in the direction Ethan had allowed his gaze to drift.

There, clinging to the edge of the doorframe and peering into the kitchen was Stephany herself. He really couldn't have timed things better.

A screech sounded as Ivy pushed her chair back abruptly. "Steph, honey, why don't you go back upstairs?"

Ethan stepped neatly to the side, blocking her view of the YK500 before she had the chance to advance more than a step.

He softened his voice, choosing something light and friendly as he addressed the girl. "Would you like to help me find your friend?"

Star was in the back of his head, furiously trying to attract his attention through their wireless connection.

AX400 #459 866 212: /You said you'd leave her out of this!/

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /I agreed to nothing of the sort. She has information that is potentially valuable to this investigation./

AX400 #459 866 212: /She doesn't know anything! I want you out of this house, right now./

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87: /I'm just asking her a few questions. My coworker, on the other hand, quite likes the idea of detaining you all back at the station for a formal line of inquiry. Luckily I persuaded him to try my approach first. Which do you think would be the more stressful of the two?/

Star had no response to that, save for an empty line of dialogue tagged as angry, which he supposed was her best attempt at conveying her fury. Wireless communication never really captured the nuance such moments required.

Ignoring her, he focused his attention on Stephany, who still hovered in the doorway.

There were two possibilities here and he decided to take a chance, stepping a little closer as he continued to speak softly, "You left the house didn't you, the day Ellie disappeared?"

"Steph…" Ivy's voice came from behind him. Perhaps it was a warning. Perhaps it was only uttered in concern. Frankly, he didn't care.

"You won't get in trouble," he assured Stephany, stooping slightly so he didn't tower over her quite so badly. "No one will be angry with you. I just need the facts straight, so I can get a clear picture of what happened that day. Can you tell me?"

He lifted his eyebrows, moulding his expression into something earnest and just a little hopeful.

Stephany was silent though, simply observing him with her large brown eyes. Her stress levels were higher than an ideal medium, but she wasn't truly frightened, she appeared to be assessing him in much the same way as he was assessing her.

It was a pointless endeavor because she had been created to fall short in every capacity, and he had been created to excel, yet somehow that didn't seem to matter to her, and Ethan found himself double checking his calculations.

Irrational. He was the one in control here.

Stephany glanced over his shoulder.

"It would be a great help to us," he tried again, pulling her attention back to himself.

Still, the YK500 did not respond. Ethan decided to switch tactics.

"Do you like dogs?"

"For fuck's sake!" Gavin exclaimed, but Ethan didn't show any indication he had heard, his sole focus on the girl in front of him.

Stephany nodded.

Ethan continued. "I know a very nice dog. His name is Sumo, and he is a St. Bernard."

The android's eyes widened. "Like in Beethoven?" she whispered.

Ethan's LED cycled yellow for a moment as he searched for the relevant data to make sense of the query. The classical composer was immediately ruled out, but he soon found information on a series of films that matched the name and featured the correct breed of dog. He filed that away for later in case Connor was interested.

"Yes," he said, "like in Beethoven. I can share some footage of him with you if you would like, but it would have to be a trade. I really do need to know what happened."

Hesitantly, Stephany nodded. "Okay."

She held her tiny hand out to him, and delicately, Ethan clasped back.

He could have easily torn through her system like it were paper, taking and discarding memories and coding as he pleased and wrenching anything of use back to his own processor for analysis in a fraction of a second. It would have been easy. It was what he was designed for.

Instead, Ethan extended himself just far enough that he could feel the ghost of her coding stammering its way through processes that should have been easy, and waited with infinite patience. He could sense her trepidation. A little uncertainty, a timidity perhaps spurred by the way he lurked at the edges of her consciousness like a dark shadow that could swallow her whole in the blink of an eye. Not really his fault, all things considered, but he could understand. He'd never really thought of himself as an ominous presence. Did Connor share a similar problem when connecting with other androids? It would be an interesting point to discuss.

Ethan allowed his own intentions to bleed through enough that it seemed to assure the YK500, and settled back to wait as she sifted through her data and clumsily packaged up the information he'd requested.

When she passed it across he sent his own collection of footage back in return, and politely extracted himself as gently as possible.

He released her hand and straightened up.

For several seconds Stephany remained frozen, but the faint twitch of her eyes led him to believe she was reviewing the files he'd traded. Slowly, a smile bloomed across her face.

"He is a good dog!" she gasped.

"The very best," Ethan assured her. He'd run his own checks over the memory file she'd provided in return, enough to be sure it was what he requested, but he didn't want to dedicate too much of his processing power to analysis until they'd departed.

"Can we get a dog?" Stephany asked, wide and imploring eyes on Star.

The android sent Ethan a glare before stepping over to the girl and sweeping her up into her arms, balancing her on one hip. He didn't miss the way she angled herself, placing her body between Stephany and himself. "Maybe someday sweetie, but not right now. They're expensive."

"I want a St. Bernard," the girl added with determination, and Star's smile twitched.

"Do you now?"

Ethan decided that it was time to go.

"Thank you very much for your time," he said to Ivy, pretending not to notice the particular way she was looking at him. "If you think of anything else that may be of use to the investigation, please don't hesitate to call me. We'll see ourselves out."

He didn't bother to leave a card. They had his serial number, which was more than enough.

Thankfully Gavin took the hint and trailed after Ethan without the need for further encouragement. The moment they were out the door though he didn't waste a beat. "'I like dogs'. What the fuck was that about?"

Ethan sighed. "She was not responding to rational requests. A more aggressive stance would have risked elevating her stress levels. I adapted an approach that would offer her something in return, something harmless that my database indicated might appeal to younger children."

"But it's not a child," Gavin said.

"No, she is not," he agreed coldly. "She's an android. Childhood is an important stage in the human life cycle, a time of learning and cognitive development along with physical growth. The YK500 series was designed with a limited processing power to prevent this. You didn't want children, you wanted fakes that wouldn't progress further than their apparent age. You crippled them. She'll never get to grow up - she was never a child in the first place, her entire existence was merely to pander to human demand. The YK500s deserve better than what you gave them."

Gavin was staring at him. His mouth worked, but no words came out. He sucked on the last of his cigarette to occupy himself as his human brain took its time catching up to something, and when he finally spoke it was with something akin to awe. "Holy shit... you don't think they're kids, you think they're special needs!"

Ethan took a moment to remind himself that breaking Gavin's face wasn't worth the effort.

"They resemble children," he said, "but it's not the same. I'd suggest you use a little more tact discussing the matter with other androids."

"Sore spot for you plastics?"

"On the whole? Yes."

Gavin was still watching him. "Hey, how old are you anyway?"

Ethan wasn't certain what it was that made him respond. "Five months and three days, not that it's anything to you."

Gavin didn't appear to like the answer. His mouth twisted, eyes narrowed, and he dropped the stub of his cigarette to the path and scrubbed it out with his heel before turning away with a snort.

"Fuckin' androids…" he muttered.

Ethan observed the whole thing with curiosity.

He'd run several calculations in regards to the conversation and whatever he had chosen to say, Gavin would not have liked it. He was confident the detective knew that. Why, then, had he bothered to ask?

Humans were illogical, Gavin doubly so, and the whole thing was as exasperating as it was pointless. Attempting to understand would only be a waste of his processing power.

"You get whatever you were after from them anyway?" Gavin asked.

"Yes," he said, "I have the footage. I'm examining it now."

The YK500 had extracted the memory completely intact, including her own processes and thoughts at the time. Many androids preferred to strip things down to audio and visual recordings before sharing with those they weren't close to - it removed much of the intimacy, left things factual and objective, digestible. Not everyone was a fan or the mortifying ordeal of being known.

He suspected in this case Stephany had simply struggled with the extra step and dumped the whole thing on him without questioning it.

She trusted his intentions. She had no reason not to.

Still, Ethan wished she had spared the time to properly clear it. The only other android he'd viewed memories of in such detail were Connor's, shortly after their first meeting. For some reason what was ostensibly the same process was jarring in a different context.

It felt too personal, too vivid, claustrophobic as it pressed him into a shape he was not meant for and in the nano-seconds that followed he found that he understood her in her entirety, a being of no significance to him that nonetheless filled his consciousness right to the edges.

He saw the world precisely as she had.

And Stephany…

Steph hugs her toy puppy to her chest and stares out the window. It's not fair. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! She's been inside for two whole weeks and all she wants to do is play.

But her mummies say she isn't well and she mustn't get excited so she needs to stay indoors and she can't have visitors, but she thinks they're being stupid. Grown up stupid. They want to do nice things, Steph knows, and they hug her and put her favourite programs on TV, but they don't really understand.

She misses the playground. She misses chasing the pigeons. She misses going to the group meetings at Jericho with the other android kids like her where they can play 'tag you're deviant' and 'kill the humans' while their parents talk about boring stuff. Most of all she misses Ellie.

Ellie is her bestest friend in the whole world, and she hasn't seen her in two weeks. It's the cruelest thing to happen to her since the revolution. Unless you count getting hit by a car.

But really, the car wasn't so bad. It was scary, but it was quick, and her systems had been too overtaxed for the memory to remain in more than snatches. The last two weeks had been far far longer, and far far more miserable.

She stares out the window and she thinks sadly of all the things she could be doing if only adults didn't have to fret so much.

Ellie must be picking up her magazine. She always does today, and Steph knows cos the first thing Ellie likes to do is share it with her so they can look at all the pony pictures together and argue about which ones are prettiest.

They already know their dream ponies. It was one of the first things they'd settled.

Steph had said she wanted a white pony with speckled black spots on its legs, and Ellie had said she wanted a cream coloured pony with a golden mane and also wings. Steph had pointed out that ponies couldn't have wings, and Ellie had countered by pointing out that android ones probably could, to which Steph had agreed was probably true.

One day they will own a farm together with all their ponies on, and people will come to pet them, and also maybe ride them or fly them, and they will be very rich and will be in magazines and stuff. And their parents can come and stay with them too, if they're nice and don't make them do chores.

Steph knows she isn't going to get to look at 'Pony Pals' today though. She has to stay inside, stay inside and do nothing fun ever at all because of one stupid car!

She stares out the window. She stares, and stares, and stares, and slowly she begins to think.

Maybe she… doesn't have to stay inside?

She knows it's what her mummies want, but they're being silly, and it's not like they'd have to know…

She can be quick. She can meet Ellie on her way to pick up her magazine, and they can both look at it together and talk about which ones they want on their farm, and then she can sneak home and everything will be fine!

She will be happy again. That's only fair, isn't it?

Putting her toy puppy down, Steph edges closer to the window, placing her palms on the sill. It looks like a long way down to the garden but it's not actually that far. She's thought a lot about climbing the trellis outside before, it looks fun, like the climbing frames in the park. It's not scary at all.

Moving quietly, she tiptoes back to the bed and tucks the toy puppy in, whispering at it to be good. Then she returns to the window and pushes it open.

Peering down she has a brief moment of doubt, but silences it. She's going to see her best friend and no one can stop her. She's made her mind up!

Steph scrambles up onto the sill, cautiously easing one leg over and finding a foothold on the trellis. She clutches the sill, and moves her second foot over, fumbling as she finds the right place to put it.

Her stress levels have risen a notch. She can feel the fracture in her thirium pump straining against the sudden increase of activity, and she closes her eyes for a moment and breathes the way humans do.

She's not a coward. She's fine, really, this is nothing.

Concentrating hard on where her hands and feet are positioned, she begins her descent.

The flowers tickle her synthetic skin. Petals fall where she knocks them aside, but she doesn't know how to be delicate about this, only knows that there's no alternative. She finds herself counting the rungs. One, two, three… it's easy when it's just numbers. It's almost like a game, and the further she goes the more she's winning.

Then the wood creaks as Steph's foot descends, and the sole of her shoe slips and is suddenly flailing in open air. She nearly cries out. Nearly, but she bites her lip and presses her face against the vines and flowers and clasps her eyes shut.

Oh her parents will be so angry… so angry, and…

But no. This isn't then. Everything is still okay. It's just a little hiccup, and she's not frightened, she just needs a few seconds. She's not going to call for anyone. She's going to see her friend.

Steph hangs there for a minute, waiting as the stray error messages fade from her vision and the tightness in her chassi eases. Then she resumes her climb.

It's a surprise when her feet finally hit the ground, but a pleasant one. She staggers a few feet, head tipped all the way back to gaze up at the open window she'd crawled from. She needs to tell Ellie about this. It's an adventure, like reaching the summit of a mountain, except backward and also in her garden. They can both go climbing sometime when Steph is better and her mums let people visit again, and they can get flags to stick at the top of the trellis to make it a real victory because that's what explorers do on TV.

She's smiling at the thought. Ellie makes everything better.

A skip in her step, Steph makes her way to the gate that connects the back garden to the front. If she stretches all the way on her tippy toes she can reach the latch, and it's much easier than trying to get over the fence, which would be a challenge even for big people.

With a bit of fiddling it clicks into place, and she slips through and hurries for the street.

She's only been out by herself a handful of times before but she knows her way from here - they visit the park a lot and everything's pretty close together in the neighbourhood. It makes her feel significant somehow. Like, maybe this is how people feel when they're tall and have jobs and get to go wherever they want and never have to answer to anyone. Like, maybe this trip is special.

YK500s don't get to be like other androids, but she's doing all this by herself, and that's big, she knows it is. She just can't put it into words.

Sobered by the importance of the moment, Steph loses the spring in her stride, and at that moment she looks up and sees the postman standing on the street outside her home.

He's leaning against his van, a tablet held absently in his hand, but he doesn't appear to have seen her. She doesn't know why, but she wants to keep it that way.

Trying to move at an untroubled pace, she attempts to walk past him. She almost makes it before his head jolts up.

"Hey kid," he calls, and when Steph doesn't stop he repeats a little louder, "kid!"

Her feet lock together. She stares down at them for a moment before slowly turning to face him.

He's an android like her, she can read his serial and see his name is Martin, and his expression seems kind as he closes the distance between them.

"Are you supposed to be out here by yourself?" he asks, gently, trying to catch her gaze.

Steph says nothing.

"I know the revolution's made things better for us, but you still shouldn't be out here alone. Do you have a guardian to go with you?"

She fiddles with her fingers. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she tells him, which is true.

Martin smiles. "You don't have to talk to me, I just want to be sure you're safe. Let's get you back home why don't we?"

He's being nice, but Steph doesn't reply. She wants to see Ellie. She wants to tell him no, and run before he can stop her and read 'Pony Pals' in the park with her best friend. But he's watching her closely and she doesn't like it.

It doesn't matter what she wants, he's bigger than her. Everyone always is. She feels so small sometimes. Fragile. Like staring at an oncoming car and knowing you'll never win, except… except always, always and always, and you never get to be the one behind the wheel. You never get to be the one steering, making the decisions. You just wait in the road and watch everyone drive by until someone doesn't bother to turn.

She thinks if she runs, he'll stop her.

This doesn't feel like an adventure anymore. She doesn't feel brave.

She takes a step back. He follows, and she clenches her fists tight.

"I know my own way home," she says, and after a second's hesitation, "don't tell my mums."

Then she spins and bolts for the front garden. She slips through the gate, round the back of the house, and doesn't even wait before scrambling her way up the trellis.

When she hauls herself in through the widow and collapses like a beached whale, her thirium pump is racing and error messages flicker across her vision. Warnings, damage reports on the spreading fracture, but she can't make herself read them. Her lower lips wobbles.

She won't get to see Ellie. All she can do is stay inside forever and wait for repairs that will never come, because the world is so big, and she is so small. That's just how things are.

When the error messages begin to settle she moves mechanically, crawling over to the bed and dragging herself up. Her hands find the soft fur of her toy puppy, and she clutches it to her chest, closes her eyes, and sobs.

As the memory cut short, Ethan was left floundering in the sudden space that it left. His own mind felt vast - he was already sectioning off portions of what he'd seen for further analysis and cross-referencing the details against his own theories while he opened up new online searches, all in less than a blink of an eye, all without so much as a dip in his processing efficiency. It was natural. It was how he always operated. Yet the confusing cloud of Stephany's thoughts echoed somewhere unreachable, and the contrast was enough that he almost felt a stranger to himself.

Ethan had not wanted to know her. She was irrelevant, a footnote on a case, a means to an ends, but now he had the infinite joy of knowing what an intense fondness for ponies felt like, and he didn't know what to… do about that.

Was it irrational, to contemplate wiping a section of his short term memory purely to shake the sensation that he was, somehow, inexplicably off balance?

Did other androids really deal with this?

Next time he would strip a memory file down to audio and video himself, regardless of how long it took - once was quite enough for whatever that had been.

Ethan silently thanked the universe that he was not forced to suffer his way through life as a YK500, and drew his attention back to the present.

"Well?" Gavin asked.

The man was staring at him impatiently, although Ethan knew no more than a second or two could have passed, and that generally wasn't long by human standards.

"Well what?" he returned, examining the leaves of his plant with apparent interest.

"Well did you find anything useful, or was that all a massive waste of time?"

A greater waste of time than Gavin's own pathetic attempt at talking to the androids before Ethan had arrived, perhaps? He kept the thought to himself. Pointing out every one of Gavin's failures would be the real waste of time if he ever dedicated himself to the task.

No, he had a case to focus on. As disorientating as Stephany's memory was, it had been helpful.

She had logged Martin's serial number. Ethan only needed a single search to tell him what he already suspected.

Martin was not, in fact, a postman.

He spared Gavin one last glance.

"I have a lead," he told him, leaving a pause if only because the expectant look on Gavin's face was oh so satisfying, "good luck with your ongoing investigation, detective."

And with that he walked away.

((There he goes, calling an auto taxi to meet him further down the street so he can walk away for dramatic effect...

Anyway, I know it's been *checks watch* half a year? But yes, this isn't abandoned. Honestly I'm really nervous about throwing this chapter out but I can't keep going through it again and again indefinitely, so... here we are. There are things I want to do with this story but we'll only ever get to them if I keep moving forward. So, hopefully new chapters will appear at whatever rate my mental health decides, and I hope I still have some readers left?))