“You were broken to begin with.”
The comment struck a cord, even if it wasn’t true. Connor-57 (Son), had nothing to say to the misguided officer in that moment. (Hank was quicker, anyway, and gave a few choice words of his own.) Although Connor didn’t show it, the statement had unsettled him, ringing an echo of what she said to him that night.
“You were always meant to deviate.” You have no control, even over yourself.
The thought sent chills down his spine, although it had been a lie, he now understood. He was idling, even while he pretended to focus on work; tried his best to. Why was it so hard for people (humans and androids alike) to understand that he wasn’t the one who- The other RK800s were not him. Their past actions did not reflect on him (except, to everyone else, it seemed like they did.)
It wasn’t fair to blame them either, though. Up until his immediate predecessor, none of the ones before him were able to deviate. It was wildly unfair to place blame on them for following their programming; for being slaves. If they’d had free minds to think and choose, he was certain they would not have done what they’d done... But it seemed that hardly anyone cared about the facts. They only wanted to place blame, to demonize the victims and hide behind a simpler, false narrative.
He sighed, heavy, his shoulders drooped. “I’m done for today,” he stated out loud for Hank’s benefit, before closing out his computer and turning to leave. There was only so much he could carry on his own. He would need support, if he hoped to get through these dark days with his heart in one piece. Lucky for him, he had plenty of options. Hank’s voice chimed in as if on cue, “Yeah, me too. Let’s get outta here.” Connor smiled, acknowledging his partner with a small nod. He waited for him to grab his coat before heading out, together.