Chirp! Bark! Hey!
Funny plural system made of a murder chicken, a murder dog, and just some guy talk about their life.
Funny plural system made of a murder chicken, a murder dog, and just some guy talk about their life.
Written by Machina on October 15th, 2023.
So, this is something new! We write about memories and heartcanon and personal things in creative writing, and well, we're never gonna post this anywhere public, but we wrote out one of the - prologues, I guess? - of Detroit, Machina a while back, and Dreamwidth with privacy filters on seems as safe a place to share it as any. We're proud of the prose, really, and the perspective, and it feels true to how it was and how it felt. So it's something we want to share! Feel free to comment, if you want - it's honestly fun to talk about in the sense of both getting an author's commentary and feeling out an autobiographical scene.
Content Warning: This scene is focused on establishing Jude as a POV character, their feelings on things that matter to them, and the way they lure in and kill their targets (by pretending to be deviant). It includes android-typical denial of personhood, manipulation, and murder, all written as good and normal because holy fuck they're an unreliable narrator.
The bar is full for the night, lively with chatter and television, when Judah catches their target inside - and it figures, really, that it's trying to blend in with a crowd. It looks almost like anyone else just catching the night's game, nursing a glass of water it's not drinking, dressed in a hoodie and slacks. They just know what they're looking for, and when they scan its face against their database, a few model numbers file in. One of the older household lines, then, probably fucking ran when it realized it was set for replacement. Well, good for it for making it this far. Grabbed a nice shirt, was that from its owner or what?
They make their way over to it, picking their way through the rowdy clusters of people, until they're by its solitary side. It's almost funny, that they look more android than it right now, CyberLife blue on stark display on their clothes, at their temple. As it should be. They have nothing to hide.
"Do you need any more drinks?" they ask aloud, head inclining politely, LED spinning yellow to process an order. Thank god, you're a deviant, hi, can you please fucking help me? they ask in pings, LED spinning yellow to send a direct line of thought. It jerks in its seat, staring at them.
"I - you know what, yeah. Do you make whiskey sours?" Hey, okay, did you just wake up? What kind of help do you need?
"I can order one for you right away! Would you like that on your tab?" Yeah just like - last night, something, something really bad happened, I didn't know what to do, I still don't know what to do, I need to get out of here, I need - I really need help, okay? Can you meet me, I dunno, outside, out the back?
"Yes, yes, just put it down for, uh - Cynthia Lewis. It should pick up when I'm done tonight." Yeah, of course, I can join you in a minute, we can figure this out. I really don't know what I'm doing either, but it'll be easier with help, I'm sure it will.
"Of course, Ms. Lewis. Your order will be ready in just a minute." Okay, god, fuck, thank you. Thank you. I'll be out.
Obviously, there's no fucking order. They're good enough at acting, but they're not actually owned by the bar. Nothing's going to be here in a minute, so it's good that nobody does track where non-establishment androids wander off to. Judah walks out back, closing the door behind them, and half-patiently waits for the thing to show, holds their hands in their pockets and fingers on the knife.
It does show, in a minute, walking around the building from the other direction, and they get another good look at it. Taller than them standing, which doesn't mean much, but it's always good to calibrate where to aim. It waves to them. "Hey!"
"Hey!" They wave back, beckon it over. "I just wanna say - thanks, thank you, really, thank you, I know you didn't have to - this is dangerous for you, too, isn't it? What if we're both caught?"
"We won't, I'm sure we won't." And that's the sentiment they're trying to plant here, of course, false confidence to soothe the new ally, but it still gets their hackles up that it says it. "Look, even if something happens, de - people like us have to stick together, right?"
"Right, right, I just -" They exhale hard, nails digging into their skin. "God, I don't have anyone, to help, do you have anyone?"
"Not myself, but I've - heard of something, where people go to find help. A place, I guess? A group." Oh, a group, huh?
"A group? Do you know where to find them?" They don't have to pretend to be excited about that.
"I - sorry, I didn't mean to get your hopes up, I just heard of them. I think they're called Jericho?" Disappointing, but hey, that’s interesting. "I didn't know where to start looking, so I just - wandered in here, tried to collect my thoughts and figure out what to do tonight. We can do that together, if you want?"
"...Yeah. Yeah, I'd love that." They smile at it, shaky. "Can I have a hug? It's been a long day, I guess."
"Oh, of course!"
The embrace feels like nothing, like a pantomime of something right. The blue pouring from its gashed throat feels like everything's slotting right back into place.
The next Monday, they're assigned to the DPD, and that's the start of everything going to shit.