Chapter Text
An alert popped into Nines’ field of vision, letting him know the temperature had dropped below 25°F, and that any human partner he was assisting should be wearing extra gear to protect them from danger. He dismissed the irrelevant alert as he shoved underneath the barrier into a parking garage.
Detroit was dark. Last week’s warm front had melted the snow away, and bitter, dry cold had followed right on its heels. Without the snow’s bright, white surface, on a cloudy night like this, in a zone that hadn’t had power restored, it was VERY dark.
Fortunately, Nines didn’t need light. It’s one reason why he’d been assigned to sweep Zone 6, right in the heart of the no-man’s-land that’d been created when tense negotiations between Markus and president Warren had narrowly avoided the city being bombed. Control of Detroit had been handed over to the androids, in exchange for the safe evacuation of all of its human residents.
A quickly-built wall now stood, erected by the US military, dividing the android-governed territory from the rest of the world.
Humanity as a collective whole was now anxiously watching Detroit, and the androids felt that gaze looming like the shadow of a massive predator who’d been slapped on the nose.
The night of the revolution, Detroit had been divided into ten zones, designating the order in which humans were being evacuated. The National Guard and local government had moved quickly. Human patrol teams in tanks and riot gear combed each zone and cleared each structure.
Nines hadn’t been around for any of that.
That’d all happened two weeks before he had been freed from the warehouse where 200,000 RK900’s were being produced for an order placed by the State Department. Only ten had been completed and fully assembled, for testing and sales demonstration purposes. Nines was the ninth that’d been awoken from that lot, and the designation RK900-9 had soon led to his chosen name.
He’d been awake and freed for precisely four hours before being assigned a zone to patrol. In the 49 days, 18 hours and 22.83 minutes since then, he’d catalogued the layout — mapping a 3-D space of every level and room, every parking lot and retail shelf, every alleyway and basement — of approximately 68% of his assigned zone.
He was technically outside of his zone, currently. There had been a space that’d been missed in their documents, thanks to shoddy human record keeping. Nines was updating the zone map daily, as he inventoried the city.
Brittle plastic, the remnants of a vehicle’s headlight, crunched under his feet as he scanned level B1 of the parking garage.
Silence filled the concrete cavern, other than Nines’ footsteps. On the level above him, multiple vehicles were wedged tightly into a bottleneck space, their mass of crumpled metal and broken glass having blocked any other vehicles from exiting the lower levels of this parking deck. Looters had since raided the lines of abandoned cars, leaving behind only the empty reminders of the daily lives of humanity.
Thanks to his factory-equipped night vision, Nines navigated it all with ease, while his mapping software constantly updated itself as to the dimensions and contents of every space he explored.
It was warmer below ground by several degrees, a situation capitalized on by the rats taking up residence in the goldmine of upholstered seats. They showed up in Nines’s feed as small specs of brighter colors: shifting reds, oranges and yellows, amongst the surrounding darkness on his thermal imaging system. Equipped with a breakthrough technology, he was able to measure temperatures reaching much deeper than those on the surface.
Two rats squabbled in the back seat of a Land Rover, their bickering squeaks ceasing when Nines climbed over the hood, winding his way lower into the underground parking levels.
Vehicle presence thinned out with each level he descended. By the time Nines reaches B5, concrete emptiness surrounded him, and traversing the space was much easier. He moved from one end to the other quickly, mindlessly scanning the bare edges as he rounded a dividing wall and walked toward the corner of the structure.
Nines halted.
At the far corner, there was a concrete wall with a metal door. The door led to a stairwell. And within that stairwell, there was a heat signature. Something far larger than a rat.
Thermal vision displays temperature by changing its color, relative to surrounding temperatures. The shape of the different temperature usually gave some indication of what was producing it. For instance, a hot water heater (in a zone with power) was a cylindrical tube of relatively consistent heat. A fire was a constantly shifting area of intense heat, et cetera. Advanced as his technology may be, when there was distance and barriers, the heat source was sometimes harder to parse. Androids gave off heat within an organic shape. It pooled differently within them than a human, with a greater temperature variation, although generally, especially in the low temperatures of the surrounding environment, androids temperatures would read far lower than human.
Whatever the source of this heat signature was, it was low to the ground, and stationary. It could easily be a human or android lying in wait for him, or possibly a large dog, or wild animal sleeping in the corner. It was impossible to tell.
Fortunately, Nines was all but indestructible, and didn’t really care what option might confront him.
Aggressive androids were the greatest potential hazard on these patrols. Twenty-seven had been located so far; All of them machines who’d been programmed by humans to infiltrate the area. Some had been sent as spies, two of which had attempted to upload dangerous malware into the systems Jericho had set up to control the complicated workings of a conquered city. Another two had been sent with actual bombs, one of whom had taken out half a city block and three innocent lives. The others had all been sent on looting missions by human owners.
All had been apprehended, deviated, and freed … other than the one that’d blown itself up.
Any android Nines might discover would be less advanced than him, and other than the low chance of encountering another one with a bomb, none would present any threat to his safety.
A dog or other animal presented even less of a threat.
The likelihood of a human encounter was the lowest of all.
Nines focused his vision on the thermal image, and walked toward the corner. He avoided unnecessary noise but also made no effort to move silently. As he grew closer, the source of the heat remained stationary. In the relative silence of the parking garage, surely a wild animal would’ve heard his approach. A deer or dog raising their head would’ve made the shape of their heat signature more obvious, even through the concrete wall.
No such movement came.
This meant one of two things. Either the source of that heat was waiting to ambush him, or it was unaware of his approach.
Since RK900’s were the only androids equipped with infrared vision, and there were far fewer of them than almost any other model of android ever made, most androids had no idea the capability even existed.
Nines continued with confidence toward the door to the stairwell. They were on the lowest level, so whatever waited in that space could only try to rush toward and/or past him, or race up the stairs.
He’d be faster than them regardless of the scenario.
There was still no movement as he grew close. The metal door was thinner than the concrete wall, and at this distance, he could see that the figure was not right against the door, but further back within the stairwell space.
Nines opened the door.
The stairwell was slightly larger than average. 10.06 feet of depth by 8.78 feet of width, interrupted by the staircase on the South-facing wall of the structure.
Without the barrier, the temperature readings became clearer. It was human or android in shape, laying on the ground, behind and beneath the metal steps leading to the upper parking levels. Even with the loud, squeaking movement of the door opening, the figure remained stationary.
“I can see you,” Nines announced, in case they were hoping they hadn’t been spotted. “Come out and state your designation.”
There was no response.
Nines approached, passing the edge of the staircase. The angle allowed him a better side-view of the heat signature. Whereas an android’s temperature is pooled primarily in their core, with very little heat radiating to their extremities, human temperatures were far more evenly dispersed, comparably speaking.
The figure on the ground was human. However, their temperature was much lower than it should be.
Nines pulled out his flashlight to better assess the situation. Light filled the space and Nines’ input automatically adjusted, letting the infrared display minimize.
For a moment, the different visual input left him confused. He could no longer see the figure, only a pile of literal trash on the ground. Bags and boxes filled the corner, surrounded by a fallout of empty food containers, plastic bottles, and metal food cans.
Using his foot, he brushed aside the layers of cardboard and plastic until he reached a solid figure beneath the pile of refuse. A thin blanket, caked in what his feed helpfully provided as multiple layers of varying filth, shrouded the human.
“Hey.” Nines nudged them firmly with his shoe. “Time to wake up.” There was no reaction.
Nines brushed more clutter and trash away. His foot caused something metallic to scrape against the concrete as it neared where the human’s head should be. The next pass cleared a black plastic bag away, as well as some mostly empty water jugs, the remaining contents of which were frozen solid. Beneath it all, an unexpected find, a metal chain snaked across the concrete. Nines’ head tilted. He followed the line of chain with the beam of his flashlight, uncovering it as it led to the foundation of the staircase. It ended there, looped around a sturdy metal pole, secured with an old-school keyed padlock.
He lifted the chain with the tip of his boot, taking the slack out of the line at the opposite end, where it disappeared beneath the human’s blanket shroud. A gentle tug met resistance, and elicited the smallest shift beneath the thin fabric.
Engaging his forensic suite, Nines knelt closer to the figure. Human bodily fluids and waste — all of the possible options of those — smeared every surface surrounding them.
Also present, in smaller splatters, was thirium.
Nines let out a long sigh. “Shit.” (A word he’d picked up from Connor).
When he pulled on the thin fabric, he uncovered a pale, filthy shoulder, and then a mess of matted, filthy brown hair. The human lay facing the wall, but the visible fringe of facial hair indicated an adult male. Beneath the base of their skull, the chain wrapped snugly around a deep, festering wound in the human’s neck.
Just to be sure, Nines pushed the blanket out of his way and checked for a pulse. It was weak, but present.
He attempted to establish a link to the department. A failure alert immediately followed. Nines frowned. Even the most technologically advanced unit in the world had its limits, he supposed. Apparently, when that unit was several stories beneath the surface of Detroit, communication was one of them.
Nines firmly gripped the chain near the human’s neck to stabilize it, then wound a short length of the rest around his opposite fist. He snatched it once, and it held fast. It took four firm yanks for the chain to break free from its anchor. Given that he could exert up to 5 times the strength of most human bodybuilders in their prime, it was clear the man on the ground could never have broken the chain on his own.
Nines uncovered the rest of the man, only to discover that his condition was even worse than expected.
Cuts and deep bruising decorated the human’s back like a primitive roadmap. Smears of long-dried blood and other fluids covered every inch of him. Layers of the mess, broken up by deep scabs and dried, caked filth, in addition to the surrounding trash, made it hard to separate injury from muck, especially in the limited beam of a flashlight.
“Hey,” Nines said, rocking the man’s shoulder gently. “Hey, can you hear me?”
No response.
He gently pulled at the shoulder, attempting to situate him on his back. Barely audible, a quiet whimper accompanied a frail attempt to resist the motion. Nines studied the guy’s face, seeing his brows pinch in a weak expression of pain. Nines pulled again, successfully rolling the human away from the wall. The man’s head lolled to its side, eyes closed. There was a sound that might’ve been an attempt to mutter something, though it came out as no more than an incoherent syllable or two as Nines looked him over with the flashlight.
The human was fully naked. He was severely underweight. A scan showed his core temperature to be 94.26°F. Bloody fluid oozed from multiple cuts and abrasions.
Nines tried to ping the station again, and then Connor directly. Neither attempt was successful.
Frustrated, Nines stood to his feet.
He stared down at the man, and considered his options. Firstly, he could ignore this finding entirely and walk away with his hands mostly clean. It’s not like he’d had anything to do with whatever had landed the human in this situation, nor would he be held accountable for his likely demise. Alternatively, Nines could carry the human out of here. When he reached the surface, he could contact dispatch and ask for advice.
The night was going to get colder. Tomorrow, colder still. Unquestionably, the human would die soon unless he received better protection from the elements. And medical care.
He studied the man’s face in the beam of the flashlight. The man had probably been handsome, before whatever had happened to him here.
The morality of the present situation wasn’t a thing Nines concerned himself with. Humans weren’t exactly an endangered species, and finding an injured one was of little consequence to him. He supposed that it would be a shame to allow the man to die needlessly, however.
Nines pocketed his flashlight and brought his infrared visual feed to the forefront again. After covering the human with the disgusting blanket as best he could, he scooped the man up into his arms.
Reviewing the evidence surrounding this discovery as he walked, Nines tried to assess who might’ve left the guy chained up. Obviously an android. But could it be known who, specifically? How long had the guy been there? Weeks, at least, based on the amount of food and water containers surrounding him. That hadn’t been random trash. Someone had taken efforts to keep this man alive down there for quite some time. Possibly even since the revolution.
Nines had never held a human before, and the guy felt heavier than he’d expected.
Belatedly, he realized he’d never even seen a human before. Not in person, anyway. And here was one, in his arms, totally at his mercy. He looked down at the human as he ascended the stairs, at the sliver of the face he could see peeking out of the blanket. The scrapes on his cheek, the bruising. It was all so different than damage to an android. Organic. Raw. He wondered what the guy might look like without all the muck on his body. He wondered what those injuries had looked like when they were fresh.
Nines reached the top of the stairwell, and stepped out into the cold, dark night. He paused there.
Heat seeped into his chassis where the guy was pressed against him. It wasn’t much, being that the man’s body temperature was dangerously low. It was something, though… and more than Nines had experienced before.
Small movements shifted the human as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. It was fascinating.
Nines wished he could study more. … Wished he could talk to the guy.
Nines refreshed his connectivity, watching as a full signal and messaging capability returned to his system. He opened the messaging system, hovering over the action that would contact dispatch, alert them to this situation, seek Connor’s advice, and set everything else in motion. He hesitated.
This guy hadn’t found himself on the chain by accident. It was likely that whoever had put him there had known him, and wanted to punish him. This was justice dealt by someone who probably didn’t feel like they could attain it any other way.
Nines wondered what the DPD would do with this guy? He was practically at death’s door, and it wasn’t like there were still any human hospitals up and running. Clearly, no other humans had come looking for him. He’d been successfully hidden away — someone’s secret little source of retribution. Or possibly, just a secret little toy.
And now? … Nines tilted his head, staring down at the man. The water containers surrounding him had all been empty but for a bit of ice. What looked to be the latest containers of food had been untouched; Dried out and frozen. Whoever had been taking care of him had seemingly abandoned their efforts. This human was little more than a broken and forgotten thing now, discarded to die.
Wind blew around them. It exacerbated the temperature difference between the air at the bottom of the stairwell and the biting cold of the night outside. The human shifted slightly in Nines’ hold.
Nines held him tighter, and closed the messaging system.
******
Nines had no immediate neighbors — a fact he was glad for as he parked in front of his house and pulled a dirty, bleeding, practically lifeless human out of the back seat.
Humans had abandoned their homes and businesses in a hurry when they’d left Detroit. Many androids chose to stay wherever they’d lived prior to the revolution; Homes they were already familiar with. Others chose different dwellings, especially in sections of the city where the power grid had been shut down for longer periods.
Androids who’d been awoken during and following the revolution had been given the right to choose where they wanted to live, under the understanding that eventually, there may have to be fees or taxes on power consumption or other services, for places that would require far more energy to maintain.
They were still working out the details on how to fairly but effectively run the city.
No one was foolish enough to think that there would be zero cost in rebuilding and maintaining a whole city of people, different as their needs may be from a human population.
Connor had stayed in the home of the former DPD Lieutenant, Hank Anderson.
Nines had chosen a home a few miles from Connor’s, with a similar layout and structure: Single level, one bedroom, one bathroom. The only thing he’d significantly changed upon moving in had been the security system.
The front door automatically unlocked at his approach, and bolted shut behind him.
Avoiding any hard to clean surfaces, Nines carried the filthy human into the bathroom, depositing him directly into the bathtub.
Gently, he slid the filthy blanket out from around the man, exposing his naked body. In the light, Nines could better see just how damaged he was. Cuts and punctures criss-crossed him. Bruises in varying stages of healing decorated him like he’d been draped by patchwork flesh made of multiple humans with varied skin tones. Dried blood and filth mottled everything further.
When cold water from the faucet splashed the man’s feet, he made a low, pitiful sound and curled to the side.
Nines adjusted the water temperature to a tepid warmth that would avoid sending the man into shock while he internally accessed his home’s thermostat and raised the ambient air temperature. The basic human care information he’d downloaded on the drive home indicated that humans generally maintained a warmer environment than androids required.
He continued studying the human care information — including the medical knowledge that might be relevant to assessing and treating this man’s physical state — while he switched the water setting to enable the handheld shower wand.
Grime began to wash away as Nines eased a soft, warm spray of water along the human’s body. Rusty-brown rivulets ran down his skin, pooling dark beneath him in the tub. The guy flinched when water touched his face, so Nines grabbed a washcloth from the nearby cabinet and used it to gently swipe away at the debris there.
The human was younger than Nines had initially assumed.
Accessing the database for his facial recognition software hadn’t been possible in the underground garage.
Nines ran it now, and raised a surprised brow.
Reed, Gavin K.
DOB: Oct 7th, 2022
Resident of Detroit, MI.
Detective, Detroit Police Department
… Reported missing two days following the revolution.
“Well. I didn’t see that coming,” Nines said out loud. He checked the DPD database for dates of employment, and wondered if Connor had ever met this guy. Their service dates aligned.
Nines kept talking while he worked. “Detective Gavin Reed, huh? No title anymore, I suppose.” He rinsed the washcloth and wiped at more of the unresponsive man’s face. “I wonder what I should call you, then? Gavin, for now, I guess.”
As the grime fell away, the skin revealed was pale and gaunt. Sickly.
Nines’ eyes fell to Gavin’s lips. Scabbed, slightly blue-tinged. The left bottom lip had been split, the injury scabbing over. Nines ran his thumb across the surface of it. The lips themselves were much softer than expected. They squished and rolled easily under the gentle pressing of his fingers. He squeezed, and the skin turned white between the pressure. “Fascinating,” he whispered.
He traced the seam of those lips, and they parted for his thumb, like an invitation to explore further. He took the invitation. The teeth were so smooth and hard, such a contrast to the delicate surfaces surrounding them. He felt a bit silly, in that moment. It’s not like he didn’t have a very similar mouth. This was different though.
Machines and molds had made his mouth. Millennia of genetic selection had made Gavin’s mouth.
Beyond those teeth, the warmth of Gavin’s tongue moved against Nines’ thumb when he pressed against it. It was slightly rougher than the manufactured texture of his own. The moisture was tacky, and the temperature cooler than it should be. Still, that subconscious slide and twitch of the muscle against the foreign intrusion of his finger was truly captivating.
Reluctantly, Nines removed his digit, and moved on.
He’d already considered the pros and cons of exploring the human as a corpse as opposed to a living thing. Both had their own appeal. Dissection, deeper exploration … being able to watch organic decomposition in real time? It was an exciting option.
There were corpses in the morgue, though. Unclaimed bodies that’d been discovered in the days following the revolution. They’d frozen them, not knowing what else to do for the time being. At some point, they’d dispose of them though, when the dust had fully settled. Nines could ensure he had a hand in that task, and could explore those curiosities then.
This, though. A living human? How often would he get the chance to have this with minimal risk of discovery? Excitement sent a rare spark up his spine.
Before he could get too carried away, he first needed to make sure the guy survived.
Nines collected himself, schooled his indulgent desires, and focused on the task at hand.
Filth circled the drain while Nines sprayed larger sections of skin with the shower wand and scrubbed at it with the washcloth. There was so much of it.
Cleaning Gavin’s neck alone was going to be its own intensive chore. The skin had bled and wept against the chain, rusting it, and the resulting swelling had tightened the metal around his neck, worsened everything with the pressure, embedding the metal into flesh. It was hard to tell where scabs ended and rust began. He’d need to get the chain cut before he could address that area.
When people had evacuated, most had left their houses full of stuff. Toiletries, kitchen utensils, tools. Looting had been prevalent, yes, but most looters had focused on jewelry, expensive electronics and other valuables. Nines had already catalogued everything that’d been left in this house, and hadn’t bothered to remove it. Unfortunately, something capable of cutting this chain hadn’t been amongst the small collection of tools in his own garage. Maybe one of the neighboring houses would have something.
Moving down, Nines could tell at least two of Gavin’s ribs had been broken. Possibly one or two more. Dark bruising decorated the spaces around them, like someone had kicked him hard in the chest, sides and stomach.
It looked like he might’ve been stabbed a couple times, obviously not with anything deep enough to have been an imminent life threat. Those wounds were half-healed, all of the blood surrounding them had faded to a dull rust.
Most of the more recent injuries were blunt-force trauma, and even for those, nothing appeared to have occurred within the last 24 to 48 hours.
Brighter blood, a small amount of it, discolored the water running out from between Gavin’s legs. Nines let his hand venture down as he cleaned, all the way to the source of the bleeding.
When his fingers slid between Gavin’s ass cheeks, brushing his anus, the human’s expression shifted for the first time, gathering into a wince.
Nines ignored it and gently felt around, assessing any possible injuries. It was difficult to tell much, without being able to see the area. The bleeding worsened a bit when Nines pressed a fingertip inside of him, and Gavin made a sound of discomfort, shifting his head. Clearly there were internal injuries, but the bleeding didn’t seem life-threatening. Hopefully.
He’d further investigate later.
Gavin’s dick was softer than he’d expected. It squished and flopped under Nines’ touch as he cleaned the area around it.
That, too, he’d investigate later.
For the time being, he kept washing, focusing his efforts on Gavin’s legs and feet. When he was satisfied with that, he grabbed some shampoo from under the cabinet and washed the man’s greasy, blood-matted hair.
Once the very worst of the grime was cleaned away, Nines flipped the drain plug toggle and began to fill the tub with warm water. Letting the human lay here would be the best place to let his body temperature rise slowly while Nines went looking for a bolt cutter and some other things he’d need. The tub was too small for Gavin to slide too far and drown, and he certainly wasn’t conscious enough to try to escape.
Even if he did try, it’s not like he’d get far.