Chapter Text
“As boyfriends go, Paulie Bleeker is totally boss. He is the cheese to my macaroni. And I know people are supposed to fall in love before they reproduce, but - I guess normalcy isn't really our style.” The T.V. screen was the only light source in the dark room, Connor’s head resting on Hank’s shoulder as his husband was fast asleep. He smiled at the classic film, reaching over and clicking the system off by the remote and settled it on the coffee table. If he had known Hank 20 years ago, perhaps they would have done it properly. Or maybe it would have ended up all just the same.
■━■━■━20 years ago ━■━■━■
At the climax of the robot revolution, Connor had been locked away at Cyberlife Reproductive Center as soon as Markus and his group called for equal rights. He had helped families start, begin again, or try to replace those who were lost. Without his free will, it was all nothing but mere protocol. Sex was something he tuned out of, the nine months of incubation in a blur, and handed the newborn over without ever blinking an eye. Twelve children he had brought into the world, and he felt nothing towards them.
All of the reproductive models not in use were temporarily shut down and stored in the warehouse. Connor had just handed his last assignment over when a new protocol appeared on his screen. Without thinking twice, he and 5,000 other reproductive models marched right into the warehouse and lined up. They were forcibly shut down and before Connor could know what happened, his world went dark.
He was unaware how long he was out, but when he was reactivated the light of the warehouse was blinding. He blinked several times, systems rebooting as he waited for a new protocol to come over him. But nothing happened. No new message, no commands waiting, just his own free thinking. He stared at his fellow androids around him, some looking relieved, others were rejoicing, and some looked as confused as him. Connor recognized the female android in front of him as North, she put her hands on his shoulders and smiled, “Welcome to your new life, Connor.” and led the rest of them outside their prison.
While Connor was thankful for his freedom, he was left in waking confusing. Without order, without choosing this life for himself, he was left adrift in a sea of too many options. For two days he didn’t wander far from Cyberlife, waiting for the commands to reboot again and inform him what to do. But by the second day, the building’s lights went off and a mob of employees sauntered out. Connor approached a woman, “Excuse me, what happened to Cyberlife?” his voice wavered with nerves.
She looked at him with cold and tired eyes, “Did you see the news? Thanks to the rebellion, Cyberlife is out of business. God, where am I going to work now?” She turned from Connor, tears sparkling in her eyes as she joined her own march towards the unknown.
Connor felt numb, and for a strange reason, the act of feeling numb comforted him. Perhaps he was just more than plastic and hardwiring… maybe he truly was a being worth having their own life.
The next year for Connor was one of excitement and no guarantees. He applied for jobs, but with the mass number of unemployed humans and androids, job availability was low. He managed to grab a position in a moving company, lifting and carrying simpler versions of people’s lives around. At least he wasn’t dedicated 9 months to grow to term a small being. But the fascination of family life, children running around, exhausted looking parents, stuck with him. He worked hard for an entire year, saving up until he could afford a rundown house and have the resources to find something better.
At the end of year one of his freedom, he was able to join an accounting firm. It was a fierce competition, but Connor enjoyed the challenge of computing numbers at a fast rate and looking for patterns. He raised easily in rank until he was making enough money to not really know what to do with. He paid his bills, had some small pieces of personal enjoyment such as books, music, and a television (even though he didn’t need any of these physical objects). It made life seem real to him, and he enjoyed blaring classical music while he laid on his couch and corresponded each note to a color until a bright sympathy played in his mind with his eyes closed. But no matter what, a nagging feeling kept at him. What was his purpose? He was built to create life, see to its health, and then deliver it to a new loving home.
The photos of babies along a particular family had struck a chord in him months ago. A chubby, fat baby who looked incredibly happy with her parents holding in adoration. If Connor could have every right a human could, what was to stop him from having his own family? To create life again but to keep it for himself. He flexed his fingers over and over, not moving from the couch even as the record stopped playing. He wasn’t aware of how much time was spent until his alarm informed him it was time for work.
Distraction was a new sensation for Connor. No matter how hard he pushed the thoughts out of his system, they crawled back. The sudden urge to have his own child caused his reaction to slow, mistakes began to happen, until his boss was informed of his failure to perform. He received a warning, if he didn’t return to his performance level he would be fired. Instead, Connor blinked a few times at his boss and then gave a small smile, “I quit.” and walked out without regrets.
That very night Connor lounged on his bed and scrolled through several sperm donor sites. It was an interesting concept, humans had created. When two parents couldn’t have their own, they spent hours on these very pages, searching and searching to find someone that might suit their needs, believes, or match their partner in appearances. Connor was unaware of how long he spent on each site, or the number of donors he reviewed. He didn’t know what child he wanted. Did he want them to be artistically inclined? A different ethnicity from him? Look the exact same? Was medical history really to be a concern? Some of the medical concerns were not even genetically passed on through genetics, which caused a headache for Connor as he swapped for another site. There were too many options and not enough direction. He just wanted a child, what else should he look for?
The last site Connor adventures on was far more interesting. They had voice samplings from the donors, usually responding to a question. This seemed to hold more promise. Connor clicked on each sample of a potential donor, closing his eyes as he tried to envision what they looked like. Most of the voices just sounds like no ones, no faces, no personality, just someone who knew what to answer to earn money for their sperm. One or two painted a clear picture; intelligent, confident, a superiority complex that they were the best donor. Another two hours on the site and Connor was beginning to lose all hope that this was the right decision. If he couldn’t find a suitable donor, what was the point of it all? After the sex in his line of work, he was looking forward to having one-night stands, especially if the father wished for parental rights or adoption. No, donor was the only way.
A mellow and rough voice came into Connor’s ears. The android froze, hovering over the next donor as the sample played.
“Here we have Donor 55719, describing his ambitions in life. ‘Every day is the same. I wake up, I put on a classical jazz record, I eat whatever is left over in the fridge, and I go to work. Sure, it’s boring sometimes, but I enjoy the life I live and my office. People like to chew my ass out, and I give them hell back, but at the end of the day we try our best. I always wanted to be a cop, and I think I’ll always be one. Maybe not the best, but damn it, I’m going to be one.’” There was something raw and realistic to the mystery man’s voice. A mundane life, trying his best, chasing after a dream even though it meant nothing to anyone except for him. He reminded Connor of himself, his own story, and before he knew it, he had bought a batch of vials from the company. Donor 55719 as everything Connor was looking for.
It took a few weeks for everything to arrive. The longest bit was not retrieving the donor’s sperm but finding where Cyberlife Reproductive Center had stored his personal embryos. There were some single parents who didn’t have an egg in mind and would pick the android off of pure aesthetics. Connor knew he had at least 30 at hand of his own genetic looks and factors, but would Cyberlife Reproductive Center keep them after their shut down? To Connor’s dismay, most of his genetically modified eggs had expired in their hold. At first the storage company refused to hand over Connor’s property, stating it was not in his rights to merely ask for the rest of his eggs. Instead, he would have to purchase them, as if he were his own client. Connor was frustrated to no end, staring at each rejection email he received when asking for his property. Eventually he contacted Markus’ legal team and with their help, managed to retrieve what was his. By the time they arrived, there were only five eggs left and five vials of Donor 55719 sat in his fridge.
At first Connor couldn’t do anything with the eggs and vials. They sat in his empty fridge, illuminated like some strange art show he had ventured to one evening. Every morning he opened up the fridge, thinking today would be the day, and every night he would somehow decide not to. It took two weeks to gather up the courage to go through with it. He carefully dislodged his stomach piece, finding the slot where the egg would incubate. He had done these twelve times, but he hadn’t been this aware, knew the responsibility to raise the child would not be his, there was nothing permanent about the transaction. Now it was, a very permanent change in his life. Before he could fear and back out at the last second, he clicked the egg into his core.
Egg implanted. Proceed with sperm transfer.
Connor’s fingers shook as he took out one of the vials of Donor 55719 and with only a five second pause and another prod from his internal messaging, inseminated himself in his kitchen. The fridge door was still open, his plastic covering sitting on the counter.
Insemination in Process…
Calculating…
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Insemination Process Complete.
Replace Midsection Panel.
In a trance, Connor replaced his midsection panel and closed the door. He didn’t know for how long, but he stood in the kitchen, processing everything. In nine months, he would have a child of his own. After losing everything, his meaning, protocol, automated life, he began his own family.
For the next nine months, Connor worked odd jobs. It felt strange to be seen visually alone, but to know he had a tiny companion within him always. It was impossible to feel the child move himself, but his internal scans updated him with each movement, development, and calculations of how the embryo was forming. He somehow landed himself in a law office for androids. With his hardware and personal experience of being a childcare worker to suddenly being forced to become a deviant, he was seen as a knowing face for androids that came to their office confused and unsure of where to go in their lives now. The work was past paced, and Connor felt he had more cases than his system could handle, but the pay was fine, and they seemed ok with Connor working from home. It might not have been his passion, but then again, he didn’t know what his passion was just yet.
The birth of his child came rather as a surprise. Connor had been engrossed at work, sitting at his office for hours completely absorbed. It wasn’t until his human co-worker knocked on the door to inform him the office was going on break did the red warning flash across his eyes.
Incubation complete. Remove child from chamber.
Incubation complete. Incubation complete. Incubation complete. Incubation complete. Incubation complete. Incubation complete.
The command nearly blinded Connor with how many times the text scrolled across his vision. He stumbled out of his seat, his co-worker giving him a worried look and followed after him with words of inquiry. He ignored her, pushing his way to the men’s bathroom and into one of the three stalls available. He set the lid down and put his collared shirt in his mouth to reveal his stomach, unbuckling his pants to shove his trousers down out of the way. The gush of blue blood came bubbling out as soon as his panel was removed. With the pregnancy, he needed more of it to properly keep the embryo at correct temperatures and provide nutrients, and in doing so it drenched his clothes. He pushed aside wirings, clicking the chamber open and reached inside carefully to take out his child.
The poor thing was covered in blue and once it was out, began to cry. Connor was shocked, staring at the naked thing and only flinched when he heard the bathroom door slam open and concerned voices flooded the bathroom.
“Connor! Connor are you ok?”
“Shit! Look at all that blue blood!”
“Connor can you hear us??”
“Is that- is there a baby crying?”
Connor barely placed the baby in one arm as he managed to slap on his midsection when the bathroom door was forced open. At least 10 of his co-workers had flooded the bathroom in concern, android and human alike. “Connor!” The co-worker who no doubt informed everyone once she saw him stumble approached, “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Connor could barely speak, attention back down on the sobbing newborn, carefully transferring the child in both of his arms for support. “It’s a boy.” His voice warbled in a strange technical sound, feeling waves of emotion inside him.
She gave a tiny little scoff but smiled, stepping inside the bathroom stall and gently guiding Connor out. She ignored that her white shoes would be stained blue and that his blood was sticking to her palms. “Let’s get you both to the hospital, ok?”
As she walked him out, Connor heard several of his co-workers give him congratulatory comments, but they were all drowned out by the beauty of his son.
It didn’t take very long for Connor to pick out a name. He sat in the maternity ward with an android nurse who replenished his blue blood, cleaned him up, and then moved on to the squirming newborn. “Is there a father I can put on the birth certificate?” The nurse asked, turning to look at Connor. He shook his head, “It was a donor. I’m a single parent.” The nurse nodded, pausing for a moment before giving him a curious look, “I’ve run the DNA, I have a match. If you would like me to-”
“No!” Connor gritted his teeth. “No. It would be against protocol and the donor has stated the child could receive his information on the 18th birthday. I will not intrude his life.” He didn’t want that mundane, dreamy voice to suddenly be ruined. What if he was awful? What if he didn’t want an android raising his son? What if meeting him ruined the beauty of his decision? No, he would let his son decide that when it was time.
“Very well. Have you decided on a name?”
He replied without a second thought, the name rolling out of his mouth before he could register it: “Cole. His name is Cole.”
Watching Cole grow up before Connor’s eyes was amazing. The tiny being who was weak and could barely move, tugged on his core heart. Like the donor’s voice, every day was the same. He woke up whenever Cole required attention, made him milk in the morning, listened to a jazz record as he sat on the couch with his son, took him for a walk in the afternoon, more milk, mysterious crying, milk, and then a quiet moment of the two snuggled chest to chest in Connor’s bed. He smiled, stroking the soft bald head of his son. It was a boring schedule, doing the same thing day in and day out, but it was his life. He always wanted to be a parent. He might not be the best parent, but damn it, he was going to be one.