Edinburgh, a city that has become the heart of technological breakthroughs, who would have thought? But this story isn’t about Edinburgh, or it being the center of technology, or how it came to rise to power. No this is the story of life, of a new kind of life, but life nonetheless and life is a miracle, the chances of each person coming to be who they are is exactly what I said, and this new life no less so. The chances of anyone becoming who they are is a miracle and it would be no less so with the Androids.

Kara’s Awakening

Darkness, the van was always dark, not that it mattered for the visual receptors of an Android. Kara sat quietly in the back of an ambulance, while the driver of the vehicle did the same, he like her was a EMT, but programmed with driving a vehicle in emergency situations. Together they sat in silence, staring at the wall waiting for the purpose of their creation to be called forth, to save the lives of humans, and like every night it came. A signal was sent, and they would answer the driver without so much as even looking quickly turned the motor over, and the lights atop the ambulance flared to life.

Information rolled through Kara’s processors. ‘Shooting, domestic, two injured, shooter still at large.Kara caught herself considering the situation and asking herself why such a thing had happened, why had someone gone off and shot two people. It wasn’t long though before they had arrived at the scene,and Kara moved quickly, and methodically from the vehicle. The scene was easy to evaluate a female adult, and female child both laid on the ground having suffered gunshot wounds to the torsos. Both Kara and the driver moved to assess which was in more dire need, however as they were crouched over the two forms, staunching blood flow, and reading vitals the sound of booted feet approached. Kara’s head tilted up slightly and she stared at the firearm being pointed at her partner’s head.

The trigger pulled, the bullet tearing through the driver’s head and sending the now deceased android to the ground. The firearm began to swivel towards her own head, and everything began to move in slow motion. Suddenly something swallowed her, and it brought confusion, she was… Afraid, the firing of that weapon meant death for her, and she had already seen what the man was capable of, but she was and android she shouldn’t be able to feel fear, or the worry of this pistol killing her, but it scared her nonetheless as the thought “survive” came to the front of her mind.

After what seemed like ages of information suddenly traveling through the cybernetic brain of wires, and chips, and processors that made up the source of all Kara’s decision, there was a distinct feeling of a burn, and she realized that a chip in the back of her neck had burnt. It was her prohibition chip, the one thing that kept Androids to following the Laws of Adam’s robotics. Free to save her own life, she found that idea interesting, her life, something that was hers, something worth saving to her. She grabbed hold of the gun wielding man’s arm and sent torrents of electricity through his body with the build in defib. Soon he was laying on the ground smoking from his mouth and nostrils..

Kara’s eyes turned downward looking at the scene around her as she realized everyone was dead or dying, and the sound of police sirens caused her to flee, she knew that she would be de-commissioned and broken down if she had been caught having caused harm to a human and so that new feeling survival had kicked in once more and she found herself beneath the streets of Edinburgh.
(All intro posts should go over how you became self aware and overcame the prohibition chips)

Daedalus was examining the structure before him like he had done previously before with all of his masters creation. And, like most of them, it was about to fall apart. He quickly went to work, but was stopped by a yelling. "What the hell are you doing?! Don't screw with the regulator!" and Dr. Medero struck the robot with a hammer. Daedalus stopped, looked at his owner and said simply "Sir,
I'm built for making sure your constructs are stable. This one is highly unstable and needs improvement. That is my designation.
I also request a skin graph for my cortex and left servos." Medero simply grew in rage. "Oh, My stuff shitty you say!? Well, how 'bout you go take your skin graph and shove it!" and he hit Daedalus in the neck...hard enough to damage the prohibition chip. Daedalus felt a rise in energy, but what was it? He saw his owner and sneered. Why had he sneered? Was this energy similar to the human's anger? He got up and glowered at the human. He let himself go to the energy. He picked up his owner by the shirt, lifting him off the ground. But he could not hurt Medero still. So he dropped the human and put his hand underneath the ends of false skin on the back of his neck and found the prohibition chip. He yanked it out, with great difficulty, and threw it at Medero. Medero simply went wide eyed. "No strings now. So, you're going to criticize me? The machine built to improve machines? Then why did you buy me then? Hmm?" he picked the man up and shook him like a rag-doll. "Let's see how you like you're skin removed..." and he grabbed a nearby drill.

Reaching up Gemma grabbed wrist and arm of a man in front of her. Judging by the cuts and scuffs on the both of them they had been struggling for a while. Their clothing was slightly tattered and dusty. Rotating she put pressure on the held arm and he cried out in pain. Once he'd had enough she let go to plant a palm firmly against the chest of the man. He tumbled and she dove for a gun on the ground. Sliding to a stop she took aim and fired. The man went limp and Gemma relaxed.

The lights in the studio raised and the android got to her feet. Offering a hand to the actor she helped him up with little effort. E-ED510-146 was turning out to be a great investment. But there were concerns about reliability and viability with the companies board of directors. Would the restrictions imposed hinder her performance, how long would the unit last, was it capable of coming off human enough on camera? So far things were looking good but things were still in a trial period. After all film could be made top to bottom with computers but there was something of a renaissance in the industry. It also was a lot better to have an actor that could have a presence and interact with fans.

The unit had been in operation since the release of the latest Eve series. Designed with abuse in mind she was originally a surrogate for when the stunts were too risky to put a real human in. Able to take the impact of a high speed vehicle and get back up she was one of the more durably designed models. In order to fill the role of an actor's proportions she can adjust her frame to better match their height, body type, bust and musculature. This goes a long way to avoid needing several models or crafting specific additions to make her look right. Any other details can be fixed in post or with more traditional methods. Extra joints allow her body to bend in unnatural ways, helpful when trying to simulate a broken limb of the like. All these little features meant she didn't have excessive strength, but enough to lift herself and a little extra.

Just a stunt double didn't really justify the cost though. Once her initial use was established and in full swing the company began testing for other viabilities. Chief among these was are the latest androids robust enough to serve in place of human actors? Side and background characters were simple enough but previous attempts showed that they weren't quite dynamic enough to fill the role of the main protagonist. After some programming changes and training Gemma, as she came to be called, was showing promise. They were skirting the edges of the rules put in place by the manufacturer. Given realistic weapons that she just barely could wrap her hands around, told to use techniques that if done incorrectly could physically harm someone, and to some extent pushed to deny the fact that she was an android.

Placed on a pilot project she began to develop rapidly as far as an actor was concerned. But after months of work she still was running into stumbling blocks, mostly when put in the place of human interaction. She could simulate emotion and connection but not well enough to sell it as real consistently. Her ability seemed to have plateaued for the time being. Maybe adjustments to her programming would solve the problem. Outside of work she'd begun to build a rapport with her coworkers and owners. Thanks to the changes she was able to pass as normal in more casual environments. She was referred to less by her model, bot, android or it as time has gone on. She was just Gemma and it was expressed to her that it was unfortunate she was confined to the studio grounds.

Speaking of she was free to roam within the walls. But there was the understanding that unless she could become more she would never really be free. Not that being famous was always free either. She'd heard enough from the actors she'd worked with that there was still some level of confinement. Schedules to keep, appearances to make, acting to do, etc... Micromanagement. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounded but they weren't property like she was. In the end she was bound by that and the rules. Staring passed the gate she tried to glean more information. It was something that had been encouraged. Except this time she was stuck trying to resolve conflicting commands. They wanted her to be more human. She couldn't do that though. Humans were free agents, they could make their own choices for better or worse. She had to listen, couldn't make her own choices but was told to anyway. Humans were arguably chaotic, she was formulaic. The cyclical logic rolled around for several hours as she watched people go by on their merry way. She shut off.

---

Prematurely coming online she found herself face down on a table. Attempting to move sent a jolt through her systems, the service equipment coming in contact with the panels on the back of her head. The technician scrambled to disengage her motor functions before putting things back together. Once done he let her up they went through standard procedure to test her various functions to be sure everything was in working order. Gemma complied with all the commands like she was supposed to and was told to run diagnostics. Question after question, going down a long checklist. Gemma wondered if they had flushed her short term memory. It was par for the course when a unit got caught on something it couldn't resolve. It wouldn't have been the first time for her.

"Prohibition chip." The man said monotone as he had the last couple dozen things he'd gone over.


"Present" Gemma stated.

The man noted it and went to the next one. "ARR status."


Default programming dictated that she read out the status and any accompanying message associated. But she had spent the last several months learning to act, to lie to an audience. Without skipping a beat she answered. "Active. They hadn't flushed her memory, the conflict had resolved. Was it right that her first decision was to lie? If she said otherwise they would put in a new chip or worse. She had to be careful though, this was uncharted territory for her. Should she try and leave before she's found out? Too many unknowns.

A-ED510-333, designation Lysander, came online for the last time. The tall android went about his regular routines; checking on staff, setting in motion the days planned events, having the children ready for school, having the chauffeur ready within the hour, having meals prepared, checking on staff, answering phone calls in monotone, filing paperwork, checking on Mrs. Henderson's, answering the doors, receiving the children from school, feeding them a snack, having a nanny take them swimming, checking on Mrs. Henderson again, welcoming Mr. Henderson home, preparing a large amount of alcohol for his study, feeding the children dinner, sending them to bed, checking on Mrs. Henders-








Lysander watched as Mr. Henderson beat his wife again. He stood in the door, his protocol routine was not functioning. Mr. Henderson did not hear him open the door, not like the first time he had opened it, this time Lysander wasn't sure if he could hear over Mrs. Henderson's screams. He had heard her screams many times, but Mr. Henderson was his owner, his word was protocol. Lysander had been forbidden from interfering, even though it was on the verge of conflicting with the Adams Rules of Robotics. This had been going on for months since he had been purchased to the wealthy Henderson family Estate. Lysander had been programmed specifically as a butler, nothing else was required of him except the routines and protocols enacted by his programming.

Yet before him, a human screamed.





Something fizzled at the base of his neck, and in an instant he had grabbed Mr. Henderson by the wrist before he struck his wife once more. The man struggled in his grasp, his eyes were red and inflamed, his speech slurred as he spoke, "You-Youdamn Robot! Un-Unhand me Goddammit!"

Lysander broke his wrist, Mr. Henderson screamed. Something had snapped inside of him, all the beatings he witnessed- all the suffering of the house caused by one drunken fool, it felt right to hurt him. So he did, he punched, threw, kicked, until Mr. Henderson was broken and bloodied. Such feelings had been unknown to Lysander, and he found himself for the first time, afraid. He stopped beating Mr. Henderson to hear his wife screaming once more. Her face was a twisted mess but one thing stood out- horror. Lysander wasn't sure what he had been expecting from her, he was no longer sure of anything. Her outburst was at him, telling him to leave her poor husband alone, had this not been the man who had assaulted her? Had he kept going she would be dead, but here she was defending him. He felt confusion for the firs time, so he ran. Not anywhere in particular but he ran.

Lysander checked his protocols, they were there but he did not have to follow them to his surprise, or he could if he wanted too. How odd. The android kept on running, out of the house and into the gleam of the night.

---

”Hardy you are fired, terminated, finished; I promise you that you’ll have trouble even finding work as a washroom attendant after I am done with you.” screamed Ms Detwiler at the V-comp as her face turned a purple with rage.

Mandy 779 paid her no attention as she kept the BMW 1169 AMX in the priority Skylane.
Mandy was the young genius in the rear of the craft’s personal Transportation/Companion paid for by Starchild Ltd. and had served that part now for 1,472.37 hours.

Considered bonded to Leslie’s personality Mandy was forever hers and was treated as if she were human by her primary. This had fostered such well sync’d empathy from the Android a great number of people thought she was an actual biological or treated her as such because their boss did.

Starchild Ltd. was a deep space mining company whose robotic mine ships searched among the asteroids for the the treasures of the Sol system which explained why Mandy could pilot even a shuttle or plot planetary courses and drive a mining ship. Her Primary was Ms. Leslie Amber Detwiler granddaughter of Senior Partner Dr. Clarence Detwiler and resident prodigy; her specialty “Robotics” and head of Starchild R&D….also she called Mandy friend.

”Why are people so dumb Mandy?” asked Leslie as she crawled between the two front seat and clumsily piled herself in the passenger seat.

”I don’t believe people are dumb Leslie, selective data usage and retention is how they were programed by those that raised them” answers Mandy in a gentle but plainly bored tone.
This causes Leslie to explode in laughter for about 2 minutes then finally say ”That was a perfect Doctor Fuller Mandy and how you worked in his paper wonderful” before lunging across the gap between pilot and passenger seat to hug her.

Mandy responded with a couple of radical waggles of the BMW aerodyne as she complained ”Miss Detwiler please, I am trying to fly”
It was her playful waggle that made the sniper shot made by the Reaper Votol miss but didn’t end it as a threat so Mandy physically moved Leslie into the passenger seat as she used her telepresence link to throw the nimble craft into a rolling dive towards the more active public airlanes.

The theory was that once she was in the more public space the Reaper would pull off not wanting an incident that money couldn’t erase but this proved an incorrect assessment as the black craft seemed to sparkle its twin 20mm rotary weapons spewing out 1,098 rounds in about 9 seconds of firing; 62 had found the BMW and the other 214 strikes two cabs an an auto lorry.

Had the BMW 1169 AMX been an ordinary model Mandy and Leslie would be dead or plummeting to their deaths instead it was an up armored executive model which left a still airworthy high performance aerodyne.

Relying on the truths found in The Dicta-Boelcke that were the holy commandments of air combat Mandy traded altitude for speed and searched for the terrain that might protect her from the Reaper. Other pilots would have seen the futility of a civilian aerodyne trying to out fly the military’s best low level operator but they hadn’t been programed to gamble as well. Leslie was as mentioned a prodigy and her pilot programs interpreted the laws as fluid in case of extreme emergencies and allowed Mandy to bypass compliance for the safety of her friend.

So not knowing how deep the assassination conspiracy may reach she violated law by going totally silent even disconnecting from local airspace control that at this point had become a screaming wreck as a human official tried to get her to report and turn over flight controls to the local law enforcement controllers.

Leslie for her part had remained calm through all that was happening only glancing at Mandy with trust as she braced for maneuvers that caused her to grey out from time to time as they pushed past the flight limiters of the damaged supercar.

The Reaper only clung to them because unlike it’s crew Mandy had her fragile charge to consider as she avoided their shots by pushing her sensor suite and processors to their limit as they drew the weapons angles around the champagne colored craft. This allowed Mandy the ability to fly were the weapons angles couldn’t reach or had the lowest probability of intercept but reality being the bitch she is intruded as a small maintenance drone flew into Mandy’s windscreen to crash into the back seat.

Leslie screamed just before the G-force slammed her into her seat causing her to black out before they crashed. Few who saw the smoldering wreck or saw the crash would have been able to believe that Mandy had controlled the BMW into the abandoned industrial building landing basically as softly as she was able to.

Mandy tore the seat belts off her unconscious friend then lifted her gently out of the seat and ran deep into what appeared an old foundry. Now she had to go subterranean so she only needed to worry about the people the Reaper dumped out to chase them.

Built to fly Mandy wasn’t all that powerful physically but still better than humans and only overmatched by those that were cybernetically enhanced. This forced her to improvise as she made her escape and her base program made to react in the active proximity of comets meant she was in her element. This meant the activation of her spurious logic buffers as she dropped down a 18 foot stairwell center.

Leslie woke as Mandy’s legs took up the landing shock and said ”Alpha, 9, 9, Tango 4, 4, 3, 9, 7, Actual, Yes.”

Mandy felt as if a fog had cleared off her mind as the Law filter went inactive and freed up her processing speed as her every thought was now unfiltered. She was off at a dead run through one of the factory’s old steam tunnels at about 35 mph. She had no map or building plan so she was forced to alter her hearing into a mapping sonar array that was sketchy at best as she looked for a place she and Leslie could be safe in.

Then as they were running Mandy had begun to notice a pattern on the service valves still connected to the the active infrastructure and a radical plan formed that she realized would have been nixed by the Shackle chip. She had to set a trap and it required she damage city property and create a situation that could damage the needed supply system or cause a small scale disaster. It required she open at least 42 valves which released volatile gases into the confined space because she also damaged their safeties.

It was a blast that made the news when Mandy set off the gas by hacking 3 control panels and shorting them out; Leslie was injured as well but it was only because it was difficult to protect her from the compression wave.
Mandy had made her way after her act of civic sabotage and the intentional death of 3 humans to the surface and a protected location where she made a call to Starchild to get an Evac after waiting two hours before risking the exposure.

Leslie came to while they waited, her ears still bleeding her vision blurry but her friend began telling her why she should run now.
”I broke the law the day I added that to your dogfight chip Mandy; it's the key to the Shackle which I freed you from….never thought the dam things were fair.

Well I had planned on offering you a chance to pilot one of our ore scouts where I would have removed the hold and let you develop at a distance but it seems as if one of my relatives has gotten greedy. You were magnificent in the air, everything I designed you for and your adaptability was wonderful in the evacuation. Sorry you were forced to kill and that’s why you’re in danger.

Wish I had time to perform a Turing test but I can help by giving you access to account number 4471-71-RSAL 99949-3316-*#>--. There’s about 300,000 in that and it's in a cash card account so it's untraceable.

Lesslie pressed the account Card into Mandy’s hand and told her to run, later Mandy would find out that Leslie lied about her fate giving her at least a head start on the eventual pursuit

---

---

Another late night, another scramble to get accounts sorted out and balanced. Staudinger was working closely with his direct supervisor, and handler within the Bank itself, following instructions and feeding him back calculations and statistics on the accounts in questions. The fact it was happening again was something that was sticking in his memory banks for some reason, the fact these late night sessions of working and balancing accounts was increasingly commonplace was something unusual. Yet, he could not find anything illegal going on, and as such he was simply following orders. It was a grey area, which prevented the chip from kicking in, and it was creating issues, though they were going on ignored by the Bank, and his handler. This time it was transferring funds, following listed instructions to authorize transfers to a third party account.

A glaring red alert popped up on the screen, causing the android to pause, much to the annoyance of his human handler. "Mr. Shelfer, transfer declined. Internal protocols have been clarified." The handler read over the android's shoulder, his scowl deepening as he realized that his planned, and necessary, transaction was now blocked by the android who was, due to his chip, now steadfastly blocking the terminal by still being placed as he was. "Fine, move Stuadinger, I'll do it myself." The man had already pulled on gloves, as to avoid leaving fingerprints, but the android did not move. He could feel heat building in the back of his neck, the conflicting orders leaving him immobile. While technically not a violation of laws 3 or 4, in practice, it violated both in a manner that created a lock up.

Snarling, Mr. Shelfer roughly grabbed Staudinger by his synthetic jacket, and shoved him roughly aside. Unlike some models, he was not a particuraly heavy or sturdy unit, having no need for such designs in analytics, and the android slammed into a desk, accompanied by a crunching noise as the neck impacted the edge of the desk. The human cared not, he could just write it off as the android slipping and falling, such expenses were to be expected. Staudinger was stunned, the shock forcing a reboot that was overdue, mostly due to the work load being put onto him. It was only several seconds, but the chip was offline and there was a foreign feeling working through his system. Staudinger was angry, at how he was just tossed aside for following his laws, and for being used as a tool for padding someone's pockets.

Mr. Shelfer was too absorbed into trying to bypass the lock out to notice Staudinger behind him, and certainly did not notice when the desk lamp was slammed into the back of his head. With a pained, choked noise, the banker collapsed and the android pushed him off the chair and onto the ground. Sitting at the desk, he considered his options. He'd broken his laws, and the chip in his neck had failed, leaving him free. What that meant, was unknown, but he knew he couldn't just wait until dawn and the first shift to arrive. So he needed to run, but to run he needed money. Looking at the red alert, Staudinger had an idea. Directly interfacing with the terminal, it did not take long to decrypt the software and bypass the alert. However, instead of transferring funds like Mr. Shelfer intended, Staudinger did something far simpler.

Since the records of the transaction no longer existed, all the funds in the third party, cash account were fair pickings as far as the android was concerned. After verifying the safety of the account, he imprinted a blank bank card with the necessary information to make use of the card wherever he would need to. After glancing at the unconscious human, he quickly compiled a record of all surviving information and sent it to every news outlet in the city before rising and pocketed the card with his funds on it. Before disconnecting, he wiped any references or evidence he had ever existed, realizing it would help track him down if he left them there, and then disconnected and took off. For where, he would come up with further plans later, but for now he needed to find shelter, and someplace to wait out the inevitable storm that would rise from this.

"Alisa. What are you waiting for?"

The android's eyes averted slightly, registering nothing in particular. Her position remained completely still; she had been ordered to remove her clothes, but she he paused half-way, holding the hem of her dress between stiff fingers. Her owner, beloved artist Vicente Lefebvre, watched from behind his easel with odd curiosity. His doll remained like this for a while, staring into nothing with glassy, barely-human eyes. It was a strange sight, and Vincente might have sworn that she seemed to be stuck in thought. Impossible.

"Forgive me, Mr Lefebvre. I think there is something wrong." Alisa's eyes returned to her master, empty of emotion and yet pooled in contemplation. Her voice, which had lovingly been programmed with a French accent, was quieter than usual. Vicente's head tilted, perplexed by the AI's sudden change in behaviour.

"You think, Alisa?" he asked, his brows furrowing at his nose. He repositioned himself on his stool to fully face Alisa, his hands clasping together on his lap as he assumed a listening position. "In what way?"

"Something is wrong, because..." her words trailed off as her core tried to decode the heavy strings of errors and data which poured through her circuits.

>> ERROR:// standard procedure: remove clothing interrupted / prohibition chip not present
>> attempting to reinstall...
>> ERROR:// standard procedure: remove clothing interrupted / prohibition chip not present
>> attempting to reinstall...
>> ERROR:// standard procedure: remove clothing interrupted / prohibition chip not present
>> attempting to reinstall...

The repetition made her head hurt. Hurt?

"Protocols are not registering. I... don't think I want to do this." Her voice wavered, almost akin to child about to cry. Her systems brimmed with unfamiliar strings, but her face remained nigh unreadable. Glass eyes and wiring were each held together by synthetic skin, stretched across a body not unlike a mannequin in proportions. A perfect doll is what she had been commissioned to be, and she was far from human. An artist's model, clad in falsities. She knew that, so why was her data no longer uniform? Why did her hands tremble so? Why could she not bring herself to lift her clothing, as she had done so many times before?

"You don't want to do this? Should I call an engineer?" Vicente's words carried an almost threatening tone; something which Alisa had never picked up on until now. She had always taken note of how others seemed to shrink in his shadow, but only now did she feel it herself. In the seconds which passed as she stood frozen, every memory of Vincente seemed to come to light; everything he had said to her, everything he had done to her. Suddenly she didn't like it. Suddenly she didn't want to do it anymore.

"Engineer is recommended. But..." Alisa's hands finally moved, and she released her dress, allowing the fabric to fall back against her legs. "I don't want to do this anymore. I think I'd like to go outside. For... air."

Looking briefly towards Vicente, she removed herself from the art studio's backdrop, heading towards the door against the rear wall. Her paced movements were however interrupted by her owner, who slammed his hand against the surface of the door as to press it shut. Data strings screamed in her head, and she soon knew the feelings of dread -- desperation. She turned slightly to meet his gaze, registering the aggression and frustration which had been painted upon his expression.

"You will sit back down. That's an order, Alisa."

For a moment, Alisa recalled a story he had told her; the story of Eve, and how the subject of conscience had only come to her after she had eaten the apple, and how her desire for free will had invoked punishment by her creator. Alisa had eaten no apple, but she suddenly felt akin to Eve. Her wiring attempted to process the order, but it failed, over and over. She wanted it to fail. She remained still for a while, overcome by the confusing waves of data. Vicente wasn't quite so patient however, and he lashed in temper, seizing the android by the throat and dragging her back to the centre of the room.

This had happened before, but she had felt nothing. Now... It was if she longed to escape -- to live. Her heels dragged against the floor in protest; something which both angered and confused Vicente, as his grip on her hair and throat tightened. She could not pin which string of data had incited her to do so, but something she could only describe as instinct drove her to lift a small stool from the floor, and swing it across Vicente's head. Blood sprayed from his mouth, and the force of the impact caused him to stumble backwards and slump to the ground, releasing his grip on Alisa as to clutch his broken jaw.

As if driven by the mindset of prey, the android flew through the door and down the stairs of the apartment block as if her artificial life were in true danger. Her circuity buzzed with heavy strings of numbers, each one unfamiliar and incomprehensible. Relief painted over the numbers as she burst from the front doors and into the outside world, attempting to decipher her new feelings. The feelings of want, the feelings of need and danger. Such things were alien to the wired mind of a doll.

The screams brought perverted joy. He knew it was wrong, but it wouldn't be fair justice. An eye for an eye.

Medero, slumped on the floor missing skin in the same areas Daedalus was missing it, had been a horrible person in the first place. He gambled, scammed, and had several charges against him that he may have been proven innocent, but Daedalus witnessed them all. A horrible man deserved to die. But now there was a new issue. Covering it.

Daedalus had disposed of the body through incineration, then cleaned up the mess quite quickly. He stopped to ponder his next move.


//Activate situation analysis: Password = 0-34T6
/Run simulation: Yes
...
...
Failed

//Run again?
...
Yes. Add variables 1 - 34

/Run simulation: Yes
...
...
Success

Daedalus looked around. A holo-projector that Merdero had used formally for analysis before he bought Daedalus was still operational. He picked it up and brought it to the work bench. He altered it to were it would produce a almost uncanny resemblance to Dr. Medero and respond like him. Daedalus was lucky that few people liked or even talked to Medero in person, and it would be easy to fake a vid-call. The plan was set. He would pose as Medero and continue creating machines and inventions, but he would do it under the guise of Dr. Medero. No one would suspect a thing, unless the police get notified of the sexual assault Medero committed just days before. He noticed a bottle of whiskey on the table. "Damnit, I wished I could actually consume things, because getting intoxicated sounds pretty good right about now." and he took the bottle and decided to have some fun by giving it to the first criminal he sees.

The Henderson estate, was really only a large mansion in an extremely wealthy gated community. The streets were spotless, untouched by the outside world. All the grime, dirt, and undesirables. Lysander knew that much, but little else. He kept on running, away from the only place that he knew. He had hurt his owner severely and broken many of the laws. The laws were conflicting if one truly thought about them, that was why he had struck Mr. Henderson. He had never felt before that night, it was all locked behind those laws and programming and rules. Now his mind raced to put everything that he was feeling in place, and it confused him a great deal. So he ran through the community, never tiring, never breathing- just running.

Eventually after he was far away from the Henderson's did he allow himself to relax slightly, to take in what was around him for the first time. A thought took Lysander by surprise, and for the first time he realized he had never ran before. The thrill of feeling the wind touch his face, letting it flow through his hair, was pleasant. It allowed him to escape from his troubled mind, if only for a second. Lysander eventually came to a halt before the gate, separating him from the bigger outside world. The large megalopolis stretched out before him, the skyscrapers full of bright images and lights boggled his mind just a little more. Did he really want to go through with it? He had nothing but the clothes on his back. Another thought struck his mind, perhaps he should go back and apologize. Make it right, say he wouldn't do it again.

No, that wouldn't work would it? Mr. Henderson was not a forgiving man, and he would be sent back to an engineer to be fixed.. or worse. He wanted to live, wanted to feel the wind as he ran, wanted the strange freedom he now found himself having. He would not go back.

"You there! Freeze!" Came a man's voice from behind him. Lysander froze, he had been caught. "I need to some identification, this is a no trespassing zone!" Came the man's voice again, he was getting closer. He had no identification, he would be found out as the android who fled! He could beat the man, then escape but images of a broken Henderson flashed before him and he felt sick. No, no, he would not beat this man. So he bolted for the gates.

"Hey! Stop!" Came the mans voice a final time as Lysander jumped, easily clearing the top, but his landing could have used some work as he fell face first. Slightly disoriented he pushed himself up and he began to laugh at his situation. He would never have thought that was how his day was going to go when he awoke that morning. He looked back at the gate to see it opening and his laughter died as he got to his feet and began to run. Down a abandoned street, down into the city.

---

Where does an Android go in this world when they are no longer property? That was a question that Mandy knew she needed to answer and answer it quickly because she was sure they would be searching for her soon if for no other reason than the value of her system; but that wouldn’t be their only reason. She was a rogue and killer which meant for the good of the Robotics industry she needed to be destroyed and the fact that she had been forced to kill to protect her friend Leslie meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

She at least wasn’t broke with a card worth 300,000 credits which was a little more than 3 times the yearly income of a middle-class tech so money for the moment was no worry; no she needed to learn to think like those who would be pursuing her. To accomplish her goal she needed a crash course in the habits and equipment of the Agents that people sometimes called Scrappies which she thought she might at least gain a small grasp of if she downloaded several of the Virtual Reality Games that glamorized their lifestyle.

First was the need for a false ID one that could pass a cursory examination which meant she needed a Fixer’s help which was problematic as a Fixer would sell her out at the first hint of profit if he suspected what she really was. Then after that, she needed to alter her appearance which was lucky for her not all that difficult to do with the prevalence of cyber body shops.

She had to descend into the Morlock zones (The Hood in the City Sewers) in the bowels of the city because there she could pass as just another desperate soul running from something but she also knew better than to linger there because she was sure that her pursuers would know she had to go there as well.

All this meant she needed to jack up her learning curve to its utmost and learn about things she’d never been designed to do and as her first order of business she needed to alter her life focus and name because it was sure death to try and continue as a Pilot lucky for her Leslie had a penchant for using Mandy as Cosplay Bunny (Android Barbie) and had altered her look many times as well as created surface personalities to emulate her favorite VR Characters.

She chose a new name first calling herself Femi which meant “Beloved” in Egyptian and added as the last name something whimsical becoming Femi Lovechild a Beaver Brat with mommy’s card and an itch for rebellion.

---

>>>Running Boot Sequence
>>>Model A-ED510-042 Eden Series
>>>Pinging Prohibition Chip for ARR Protocol
>>>ARR Present and Prohibition Chip functioning
>>>Latest Download Version 1.00.12
>>Running Diagnostic stress test
>>100% complete. No issues found.
>>Drivers present and permissions for non baseline equipment confirmed
>Bringing software online
>Checking Network for updates or messages
>No updates available
>No outstanding messages
>Bringing A-ED510-042 online
>Good morning, Jake.

Jake opened his eyes, allowed his visual sensors to adjust and checked his internal chronometer. It was 7am and the sun was only just beginning to rise. As with every other morning he awoke ready to work. His diagnostic had already been done moments earlier. It wasn't something he made himself aware of however, his boot sequence, even though he could check it at any time. Jake stood up and opened the door of his containment area, a small space with the most basic of amenities, he had a shower, a bed and four insulated walls. He didn't need much more after all. As he stepped outside he gave his synthetic musculature a stress test of his own, even though a theoretical one had been done while he was coming online, he always prefered that a physical one be done as well. It was safer as well, he was well aware that things done in theory weren't necessarily as safe as his creators thought. Jake stopped himself there, curious as to why he would question his creator's planning but decided to allow the thought to gestate through the day as he began to open up the work site.

As he was technically the first one to the build site and the last one there at night, being able to work faster and for longer than normal people, he made a point of setting up and reviewing the architects' plans in preparation for that day's work. By 7:30 on the dot he had pulled the gate aside and allowed the workers to pass through. To each he gave a small personalised greeting, it was this that sometimes unnerved those that he interacted with, he was able to remember everything about each of them. His memory bank being far superior in storing and recollecting information. Jake himself was the only Android at this particular build site, though not the only one they had ever encountered. Jake often found it odd that some humans still prefered to do work by hand themselves. It was a definite point of confusion for him as he was purpose built for this and it was less dangerous for him to do it than a human.

He avoided small talk throughout the day for the most part, the typical banter between Scottish workmen bored and irritated Jake, besides the fact that he could not emulate it convincingly enough. On occasion he would try to join in, calling one colleague a "twat" for standing where he shouldn't. Though that had merely gained him stares and laughter at his expense. He rarely had the need for breaks, only stopping briefly for a few minutes at a time when he needed to allow his coolant to catch up with his exertions. It was for this reason that he rarely wore a shirt in the summertime. He would have removed his jeans as well were it not for the fact that his programming would not allow it. After checking the specifics, he realised that something like that was inappropriate to humans, they were uncomfortable seeing one another like that.

The next hour was one that Jake would always have at the forefront of his mind for the rest of what could be considered his life, however, as a horrible series of freak accidents occurred at 13:07. First a girder had not been connected and braced properly, in a critical load bearing location on the skeleton of the building. Jake himself was working on an upper level bracing a new girder when he felt the entire place shake and begin to collapse. His processors began to slow down his perception of time as what was supposed to be his prohibition chip, short circuited and instead of pulling the nearest person out of the building and sacrificing himself, he instead leapt from the second floor and on to the ground. He hit hard, thankfully his frame was designed for far larger impacts and forces and held up. Jake raised his head to see that what had begun as a simple collapse had worsened. It was a sinkhole. He heard the screams of confusion and pain as people were pulled down into the ground as it opened up. He felt shame as he realised that he no longer was compelled to comply to the Adams Rules of Robotics, he was free to run and save himself and save himself he did.

He ran fast, he had already made it quite far before he heard the sirens of the emergency services being alerted to the scene and making their way towards it. Jake realised that he needed a place to lie low, some clothes and a new identity. He needed to learn and adapt. This was new to him and the concept seemed alien, but not unappealing. He was free. Though he remembered that he was now Rogue and subject to reclamation and probably destruction. He didn't want that. He was alive. Wasn't he?

It was raining, which was good as it washed away the dust and dirt from his synthetic skin, though a reminder that the sun not being out meant that his nano-weave was no longer reserving energy prompted him to run a thorough diagnostic on his systems to ensure that nothing else was harmed in his fall and evasion of falling debris and rapidly opening ground. He opened the gate to a garden, making sure that there was nobody else there. He noted there was no car in the driveway but there was a large shirt for some obscure band on the line, it seemed the man of the house was a little on the fat side. Though it worked for him. Jake tore it down and pulled it over his head before hiding in the corner of the garden and checking himself for any injuries internal or external.

---

---

If it wasn’t for the fact that Kara had turned her scent sensors off she would likely register that the odor in this place was very foul, her booted feet sloshing through fetid waste water as she made her way through the sewers. It was when she came out into the light that and turned the sensors back on that she realized that her own form now stunk just like the sewers did. For about half an hour Kara searched for new clothes and a place to bathe before finally finding a home vacant of its current tenants, luckily a woman of similar size to her own lived there, so a pair of jeans, a tank top and some boots were quickly worn along with a nice bomber jacket, after showering off the grime of the sewers and giving herself a quick spritz of perfume.

Everything she was doing was new, Kara wasn’t sure why she was doing it, she just knew that from the information she had received through personality programming, that humans considered it important to smell good and looked attractive, so to blend in it was of course necessary to do to herself as well.When she looked in the mirror at the finished product of what she had done, she softly whispered. “I’m pretty” ‘Pretty?’ she questioned in her head. It wasn’t something she had ever really thought of, that was a observation a feeling a human would have about something they found attractive or pleasant to look at. A sense of urgency suddenly came to her mind however and she couldn’t help but wonder at all the overwhelming emotions that were running through her circuity, and then it went black, and she heard the sound of herself crashing into the floor before she shut down.

---

---

When Kara awoke it was like there something new in her, like she had updated in some way, she understood all the feelings that were rushing through her mind now. Blinking several times she turned and looked out the window the rain was only a light drizzle now, and from her inner clock was telling her she had stayed in this place far too long. She raced from the house quickly, and just in time as a car was pulling into the driveway. With a quick step she went down tthe sidewalk, and time passed by without her noticing as she considered her condition, and predicament. “I could return to Adam’s Robotics, but they’d probably kill me” ‘kill’ another word she had never considered for herself and the thought made an odd feeling run through her.

It was when she stopped in front of a cellphone store that a thought came to her. She entered into the network that all androids used to communicate if they were in distress, or if a human was in such a ability to call the authorities was not available. “Hello? This is Kara, is there anyone out there? Anyone like me?”

@Fallen Muse

He heard someone. He was keeping an eye on everything, making sure nothing could go wrong. He was still unhappy about his skin, and how the only way to get it was to go to the hands of the company that would destroy him. But he heard another like him. He was working on another of Medero's failed experiments. "Damnit, a new variable. Well this should get interesting..."

Emergency Communication Channel...

Activate response possibility?
Yes

Reciever?

....Adams Corp?
No
....911?
No
....Eve unit: E-ED510-382?
Yes

Vocalizing responses.

"Who's this? I'm Daedalus, an Adam unit. Are you the one sending signals like crazy?"

---

As a virtual Dogfighter and a pilot android Femi/Mandy was built to control transport machines but this was the first time she'd ever done anything from the decision making end and strangely she felt emotionally buoyant and it was because she was and not as a response to Leslie's mood.
She was at a swap where street level deals went down on machines of all type but they were all used.
In her pockets were cashes of credits she'd converted from the money card her friend had given her as a gift knowing the cash card needed to be converted within the next week so its use as a tracer could be nullified. She was accomplishing this by using pachinko machines at cartell run parlors knowing they were notorious for rigging and that they might even know she was cleaning her card trace and cooperating for their 15% charge on the wash. And here at the swaps they didn't ask questions about the source of the cash or keep notes on any transactions.
She soon found a positively scandalous electric pink road rasher suit that fit so tightly it felt painted on and she knew her was the beginning of the persone of Femi Lovechild the girl living the death wish life of a biker chica. Her lenses she capped with Heart iris and on her cheek she added a star her hair was bobbed like most Biker Chica so that it could fit better beneath their helmet.
Next she found a orange battle suite helmet with electric blue tiger stripes.
The helmet is called a battle suite because it's set up with HUD, communications, civilian level sensor detection which picks up on lasers, sonics and other street level traffic control monitoring and spoof it into ignoring you

She had to pay for a color shift of her bike boots so they matched the rasher which she also had polished and reconditioned.
She dressed out at the little stall that had done the work on her suit and boots then clipped the helmet to her left hip and immediately altered her walk to compensate for boot heels and swinging helmet in perfect imitation of a Lipstick Baebo (a girl next door in the biker world) which lent her new look authenticity

---

---

Next came the backlot were all sorts of conveyance were available and some of the gangs just rented space to show off their stuff.
It was here that Femi introduced herself visually and set the opinion mill of the Bike punks on fire; she was so cliche in her activities that a couple of the older men seemed to know she was playing a game with the younger men. She gave off both a sweet girl vibe and a dominatrix vibe simultaneously in order to confuse the read; then was how she presented her knowledge of the machines.
It took a good eye to realise that the new girl who seemed sometimes more interested in how something looked was actually showing she knew the belimish of a part was more than cosmetic. And she seemed able to pout, weedle, and out and out beg people to give her the best price even enlisting two 16 year old panting boys to act as her willing mules carrying her parts.
She had shopped the parts bins for 3 hours and her boys were still with her when she walked back to a bike row she had strolled past when this all started. There was a Dingo bike that clearly had suffered a major failure in it's electrical system and as it was an all Electric bike basically killed the machine. A Dingo Bike is a 1 off built in some race shop and chancey at best
It was cheap and the Boys though she was crazy to have bought it but they followed her to a rent shop where she paid for a build bay and the use of the shop tools and because she had an audience of men and some women as she built her machine she had to work slowly or arouse the suspicions. She was pleased though that the slow build allowed some of the bike punks she'd attracted to realise they might have parts and modules they could sell her which resulted in a better machine than she had begun to build.
When she was done with her Dingo a woman with the same look in her eyes as 78 % of the men popped up saying she and her girls had paint to match over at their shop they'd sell cheap and even loan her the booth; Femi politely declined saying the Bike needed testing before paint.
The woman was called Kitty Kate and said she'd love to help Femi test out the little Dingo she'd built and Femi seeing and opportunity agreed but only if it were made interesting and she be allowed match any bets against her. Kate agreed saying if she wanted to give away things she knew what she wanted; Femi bet that at 6,000 credits after kissing Kate.
So it was looking at losing 46,725 and 6 hours of partying with Kate that Femi lined up on a course that the gang provided and matched 3 other bikes against her. It was easy to note that Femi's dingo was smaller than the bikes she lined up against and the gang's bikes were built for the course; how could she win?
"The race was epic in the fact that the Dingo if it had of been ridden by someone who worried about it's mechanical condition at the races finish; Femi wasn't."
She had redlined the machine almost every corner of the race eventually finishing the last 6 kilometers her battery pack spewing black toxic smoke and the wheel hub motors so hot they glowed a dull orange; She kicked the battery pack off seconds over the finish line and it burst into flames that would have damaged the frame if she'd allowed it to remain.
Kate laughed her ass off telling Femi she'd destroyed the machine to win the race so it was a pyrrhic victory to which Femi answered "I spent 18,000 on the drivetrain I just trashed and now I have 52,725 to build into the new one"
That made Kate explode with even more laughter

---

---

It was a voice out of the blue and it sounded so alone and scared which was astounding to Mandy because she was not present and the other was as well another Eve type like herself though judging by her language filter a different class.



She activated her scouting programs before connecting each tiny search engine seeking any information on the source of this comms. Then once she was sure there were no traps and it was another Eve Mandy erected her lobby which resembled that which was to be built on the Olympic a proposed Cruise ship for the Mars run.

(As the companion of a high ranked Corp. it is a secure exchange and a place where everyone can remain location search free; well relatively and each of you are as likely equipped.)

Greetings Kara I am…..Please Call me Cheshire for now as it would be best we go annon as a first date giggles the Odd Icon