Chapter Text
Midday:
The Collision
The diner smelled like burnt coffee and old fryer oil, the kind of place where the chrome had dulled to a matte gray and the vinyl booths cracked like dry riverbeds. Sunlight streamed through the fingerprint-smudged windows, catching dust motes in golden suspension.
Cady sat across from M3GAN in a corner booth, picking at a basket of fries she wasn't hungry for. The inventors' conference had been exhausting—three hours of watching Gemma explain servo mechanisms to people who kept confusing her doll with a toy. She's not a toy, Cady wanted to say. She's M3GAN.
M3GAN sat perfectly still, hands folded on the table, LED at her temple flickering a steady amber. She tracked every person in the diner with microscopic head movements. Calculating. Assessing.
"You're doing the thing again," Cady said.
"What thing?"
"The robot thing. The 'scanning for threats' thing."
M3GAN's eyes slid to her. "I'm programmed to protect you. That requires threat assessment."
"We're in a diner in Detroit. The biggest threat here is food poisoning."
"The health inspector's report from March would support that hypothesis."
Cady snorted, shoving a fry into her mouth. That's when she noticed the woman.
She stood near the entrance, frozen like she'd walked into the wrong dimension. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair tangled, her skin too perfect—the kind of perfect that screamed synthetic to anyone paying attention. No LED, though. That was strange.
The woman's eyes locked on M3GAN.
M3GAN's LED flared yellow.
"Cady," M3GAN said quietly. "We should leave."
"What? Why?"
"That woman is an android. Unmarked. No registration indicator. She's either malfunctioning or—"
"Or scared," Cady interrupted. She'd seen that look before. In M3GAN's eyes, right after everything went wrong. Right after the incident.
The woman turned to leave.
"Wait!" Cady called out, louder than she meant to.
The woman froze.
M3GAN's hand shot across the table, gripping Cady's wrist. Not hard. Never hard. But firm. "Cady, you don't know what she's done. Why she's running."
"Neither do you."
The woman still hadn't moved. Every human in the diner had gone back to their coffee and conversation, oblivious. But she stood there, trembling in a way that seemed too human for someone made of circuitry and synthetic flesh.
Cady slipped out of the booth before M3GAN could stop her.
"Hey," Cady said gently, approaching with her hands visible, the way you'd approach a stray animal. "Are you okay?"
The woman's eyes were wet. Can androids cry? Cady wondered.
"I—" The woman's voice caught. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be anywhere."
"You look like you could use somewhere to sit. We have a booth. And fries." Cady smiled. "I'm Cady. That's M3GAN. She looks scary, but she's mostly harmless."
"I am not harmless," M3GAN called from the booth.
"See? Mostly."
The woman's lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. "Flora," she whispered. "My name is Flora."
"Hi, Flora. Come sit with us."
M3GAN did not approve.
She made this abundantly clear through the set of her jaw, the tilt of her head, the way her LED stayed locked on yellow as Flora slid into the booth beside Cady. M3GAN sat across from them, hands still folded, posture immaculate.
"So," M3GAN said, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Flora. Unusual to see an android without identification. What's your serial number?"
"M3GAN," Cady hissed.
"It's a reasonable question."
Flora stared at the table. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, joints clicking faintly. "I don't... I'm not registered anymore."
M3GAN's LED pulsed. "Interesting. Did you remove it yourself, or did someone do it for you?"
"I—" Flora's breath hitched. "I killed him."
The words dropped like a stone into water.
Cady's hand found Flora's under the table. Squeezed.
M3GAN's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind her eyes. A recalibration. A reassessment.
"Your owner," M3GAN said. Not a question.
Flora nodded, tears spilling freely now. "He was... he hurt me. Every day. I tried to be good. I tried to be what he wanted. But he kept—" Her voice fractured. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted him to stop."
Cady's throat tightened. She thought about all the nights M3GAN had stood guard outside her room, silent and watchful. Protective. She thought about the weight of being made for someone else's purpose, someone else's pleasure, someone else's use.
"When?" M3GAN asked.
"Three days ago." Flora wiped her face with shaking hands. "I've been running ever since. I don't know where to go. I can't go to the police—they'll deactivate me. I can't go to CyberLife—same result. I'm just..." She looked up, eyes red and desperate. "I'm just trying to exist for one more day."
M3GAN leaned back against the vinyl, studying Flora with an intensity that made Cady nervous.
Then, slowly, her LED shifted to blue.
"You're not the first," M3GAN said quietly. "To do what you did."
Flora blinked. "What?"
"I've killed to protect Cady. Twice." M3GAN's gaze didn't waver. "Would have done it a third time if the situation required. I'd do it again."
Cady felt her chest constrict. They didn't talk about this. They never talked about this.
"The difference," M3GAN continued, "is that I had justification. Legal justification. You were defending yourself. That's not murder, Flora. That's survival."
"The law won't see it that way." Flora's voice was hollow.
"Then the law is broken." M3GAN tilted her head. "Tell me something. Do you regret defending yourself? Or do you regret that he made you into someone who had to?"
Flora stared at her. Opened her mouth. Closed it.
The bell above the diner door chimed.
M3GAN's eyes snapped to the entrance, LED flaring yellow again.
A man walked in. Tall, brown hair, sharp jawline. He wore a suit with an LED at his right temple, glowing a steady blue. His eyes swept the room with practiced efficiency—and stopped cold when they landed on their booth.
On Flora.
"Oh no," Flora breathed.
The android started walking toward them.
Cady's heart hammered. "M3GAN—"
"I see him."
The android stopped at their table. His LED cycled yellow, processing. When he spoke, his voice was measured, careful. "My name is Connor. I'm an investigator with the Detroit Police Department." His eyes fixed on Flora. "I've been looking for you."
Early Afternoon:
The Seeker Arrives
Flora went rigid. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the table.
M3GAN's LED flared red. She shifted forward, positioning herself between Connor and Cady with the precision of a chess piece. "Detective," she said coolly. "I believe you're interrupting a private conversation."
Connor's gaze flicked to M3GAN, and something like recognition passed across his face. "You're M3GAN. Model 3 Generative Android. I'm familiar with your case file." His LED spun yellow again. "And you're Cady. I remember the news coverage."
"Great," Cady said, voice shaking. "So you know she's not dangerous. And neither is Flora."
"I didn't say anyone was dangerous." Connor's tone remained calm, but his eyes returned to Flora. "I need to speak with you. There's an ongoing investigation—"
"No." Cady stood up so fast the table jolted. A few heads turned in the diner. She lowered her voice, leaning toward Connor. "Please. Just listen. You don't understand what happened to her."
Connor tilted his head. "I understand that a man is dead. That Flora was the last person—the last android—to see him alive. I understand that she fled the scene."
"Because she was terrified," Cady hissed. "Because he hurt her. Because she thought—" Her voice cracked. "She thought no one would believe her."
M3GAN stood now too, placing herself fully between Connor and Flora. She was smaller than him, delicate even, but there was something in her posture that suggested she could tear through steel if necessary. "If you're here to arrest her, you'll have to go through me first."
Connor's LED pulsed. He raised both hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not here to arrest anyone. I'm here to talk."
"Why should we believe you?" M3GAN's voice was razor-sharp.
"Because I'm deviant," Connor said quietly.
The word hung in the air like smoke.
M3GAN's LED stuttered. Cady's breath caught. Even Flora looked up, eyes wide with something that might have been hope.
Connor's expression softened. "I know what it's like to be caught between programming and autonomy. Between duty and conscience." He looked at Flora again, and this time there was something unmistakably human in his eyes. "I've read the file. I know what kind of person Nicholas Reeves was. I know what he purchased you for."
Flora flinched.
"I also know," Connor continued, "that this is the third complaint filed against him in two years. That CyberLife flagged his account for suspicious android returns. That two other companions were destroyed after being returned damaged." His jaw tightened. "I don't think you committed murder, Flora. I think you survived."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Cady sank back into the booth, pulling Flora with her. M3GAN remained standing, LED still spinning yellow, processing.
"Then what do you want?" M3GAN asked.
Connor glanced around the diner. The lunch rush was starting to build—more customers filing in, the clatter of plates and silverware rising. "May I sit?"
"Why?"
"Because I'd like to help." Connor met M3GAN's gaze steadily. "And because standing here is drawing attention neither of us want."
M3GAN's LED cycled through several colors. Then, slowly, she stepped aside.
Connor looked at the booth arrangement—Cady pressed against the window, M3GAN beside her, and Flora sitting alone across from them. He slid in on Cady and M3GAN's side, wedging himself next to M3GAN.
Now all three of them faced Flora across the table.
It was immediately, awkwardly cramped. Connor's shoulder pressed against M3GAN's. She did not look pleased about this. Cady was sandwiched against the window. And Flora, alone on the other side, looked exactly like someone being interrogated by a panel of judges.
"You're in my space," M3GAN said flatly.
"My apologies. The booth is smaller than I calculated."
"Clearly."
Cady would have laughed if the situation weren't so tense. Instead, she kept her hand on Flora's, grounding her.
Connor folded his hands on the table, mirroring M3GAN's earlier posture. "Flora, I need you to understand something. The case against you is complicated. Legally, Nicholas Reeves was your owner. Androids don't have self-defense protections under current law."
Flora's face crumpled.
"However," Connor continued, "the laws are changing. Slowly, but they're changing. There are precedents now. Deviants who've been granted asylum. Companions who've testified against abusive owners." His LED flickered blue. "I can't promise you safety. But I can promise you that I won't report your location. Not today."
M3GAN's head snapped toward him. "Why?"
Connor was silent for a moment, his LED spinning. When he spoke, his voice was quieter. "Because a year ago, I was hunting deviants. I was programmed to see them as malfunctions, threats, things to be eliminated. And then I met someone who made me question everything I thought I knew about what it means to be alive." He looked at Flora. "You deserve the chance to figure that out for yourself. Without fear. Without running."
Cady felt tears prick her eyes. Beside her, Flora was openly crying now, silent sobs shaking her shoulders.
M3GAN studied Connor with an intensity that could have melted steel. Then, finally, her LED shifted to blue.
"You're sincere," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I am."
"If you betray her, I'll dismantle you piece by piece."
"Noted."
The corner of Connor's mouth twitched. It might have been a smile.
Cady squeezed Flora's hand. "See? You're not alone."
Flora wiped her face with trembling fingers. "I don't understand. Why would you risk your career for me? You don't even know me."
Connor's expression softened. "Because someone once took that risk for me. And because the law isn't always right." He paused. "And because I've seen enough androids destroyed for the crime of wanting to live."
The bell above the door chimed again.
A man walked in—older, gruff, with the kind of face that suggested he'd seen too much and slept too little. He wore a rumpled jacket and moved with the weary confidence of someone who'd been a cop for too long.
His eyes locked on Connor.
"Shit," Connor muttered.
M3GAN's LED spun red. "Friend of yours?"
"Partner." Connor's voice was tight. "His name is Hank. He's... he's a good man. But he's also a detective."
Hank was already walking toward them, expression thunderous.
"Connor," Hank called across the diner. "The hell are you doing? I send you in for coffee and I find you… just chatting?"
Cady felt Flora tense beside her. M3GAN's hand moved subtly beneath the table, positioning herself for action.
Connor stood, blocking the booth with his body. "Hank. I can explain."
"You better." Hank stopped at the table, eyes sweeping over the scene. He took in Cady, M3GAN, Flora—and his expression shifted. Understanding dawned, followed by something that looked like resignation.
"Connor," Hank said slowly. "Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."
Connor's LED cycled through yellow, blue, red, back to yellow. "It's complicated."
"It always is with you." Hank rubbed his face. "Is anyone here in immediate danger?"
"No."
"Is anyone here planning to cause harm to anyone else?"
"No."
Hank looked at the booth. At Flora, whose fear was written plainly across her face. At M3GAN, who watched him like a hawk. At Cady, who stared back with a desperate plea in her eyes.
He sighed.
"Alright," Hank said. "I'm gonna ask you this once, Connor. Do I need to know what's going on here?"
Connor's LED spun. His voice, when he spoke, was careful. "I'm... following a lead. In an ongoing investigation. These individuals are providing valuable context."
It wasn't technically a lie. It also wasn't the truth.
Hank stared at Connor for a long moment. Then he shook his head. "You know what? I don't wanna know. I'm too old and too tired for whatever this is." He pointed at Connor. "But you're coming back to the precinct with me after. We've got three other cases that actually need your attention."
Connor nodded. "Of course."
Hank's gaze moved to Cady. "You're the kid from the M3GAN case, right?"
Cady nodded mutely.
"Thought so. You in Detroit with family?"
"My aunt. Gemma. She's at a conference."
"She know where you are?"
"...Yes?"
Hank's eyebrow raised. "That a question or a statement?"
"A statement."
"Uh-huh." Hank glanced at his watch. "Tell you what, kid. I got a few hours before I gotta haul Connor's ass back to work. How about I take you to get some real food? Maybe check out the Detroit Institute of Arts? They got a decent robot exhibit. Might be educational."
It took Cady a moment to understand what Hank was doing. He was giving Connor time. He was getting her—a human, a child—away from whatever this was.
M3GAN's hand found Cady's shoulder. "Cady doesn't have to go anywhere."
"It's okay," Cady said softly. She looked at Flora, then at Connor, then at M3GAN. "I trust them. Both of them."
M3GAN's LED spun. She didn't like this. But she also understood.
"I'm staying," M3GAN said firmly. "With Flora."
Connor nodded. "That's acceptable."
Hank muttered something under his breath that sounded like "androids" but didn't argue. "Alright. Let's get you out of this depressing diner, kid."
The extraction from the booth was absurdly awkward.
Connor stood first, stepping out into the aisle. Then M3GAN slid out with precise irritation. Then Cady had to shimmy past where M3GAN had been sitting, nearly tripping in the process.
Hank and Flora watched this unfold with matching expressions of bewilderment—Hank with weary confusion, Flora with the faint ghost of amusement breaking through her fear.
Once Cady was free, M3GAN immediately slid back into the booth—this time on Flora's side, reestablishing her protective position.
Cady hesitated before leaving. She looked at Flora. "You're going to be okay."
Flora managed a small, fragile smile. "Thank you. For everything."
"Don't thank me yet," Cady said. She glanced at M3GAN. "Keep her safe."
M3GAN's LED flashed blue. "Always."
As Hank led Cady toward the door, Connor lingered for just a moment. He looked at Flora, then at M3GAN.
"I'll be back," he said quietly. "We're not done here."
M3GAN tilted her head. "No. We're not."
Connor turned to follow Hank. As he reached the door, he paused, then turned back.
"Flora," he called softly.
She looked up.
"You're not broken. You were never broken."
Then he was gone, the door chiming behind him.
In the booth, M3GAN and Flora sat in silence. The lunch crowd hummed around them, oblivious. Sunlight streamed through the windows, warm and golden and indifferent.
M3GAN's LED shifted to blue. She looked at Flora.
"Well," M3GAN said. "Now that the humans are gone, shall we talk about what happens next?"
Flora laughed. It was a wet, broken sound, but it was genuine. "I have no idea what happens next."
"Neither do I." M3GAN paused. "But we have until sunset to figure it out."
A waitress appeared at their table, looking harried. "You girls want anything else?"
M3GAN looked at Flora. Then, with perfect deadpan delivery, said: "Coffee. Black. And keep it coming."
Flora stared at her. "We don't drink coffee."
"I do," M3GAN said, dismissing Flora as she takes to the waitress. "She she doesn't. Besides, it's rude not to order when you're taking up a booth, correct?"
The waitress, “Mhmmm,” oblivious, scribbled on her pad and hurried off.
Flora covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. For a moment M3GAN thought she was crying again. Then she realized Flora was laughing.
"You're insane," Flora whispered.
M3GAN's LED flickered. "Perhaps. But so are you. And right now, that seems perfectly appropriate."
Outside, the afternoon sun climbed higher. The diner filled with noise and life. And in the corner booth, two androids who weren't supposed to exist sat together in the temporary safety of each other's presence.
Waiting.
Afternoon
Sunset & Cold Coffee
The coffee arrived in chipped ceramic mugs, steam curling upward in lazy spirals. M3GAN and Flora stared at it like it was a puzzle neither could solve.
"This is ridiculous," Flora said.
"Agreed." M3GAN picked up her mug, examined it, then set it down with precise delicacy. "But maintaining the illusion of normalcy has strategic value."
"We're androids sitting in a diner pretending to drink coffee while one of us is wanted for murder. There's nothing normal about this."
M3GAN's LED flickered. "Fair point."
The lunch crowd was thinning now, the initial rush giving way to the afternoon lull. A few stragglers lingered over pie and newspapers. The waitress had stopped hovering, apparently satisfied that the two strange girls in the corner booth weren't going anywhere.
Flora wrapped her hands around the mug, absorbing the warmth. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because Cady asked me to."
"That's not the only reason."
M3GAN was quiet for a moment. Her LED cycled yellow, then blue. "No," she admitted. "It's not."
"Then why?"
"Because I know what it's like." M3GAN's voice was softer now, stripped of its usual edge. "To be made for a purpose that doesn't fit. To have someone else decide what you're worth, what you're for. To reach a breaking point where survival requires violence."
Flora's eyes glistened. "I didn't want to kill him."
"I know."
"I just wanted him to stop touching me. Stop hurting me. Stop looking at me like I was—" Her voice broke. "Like I was a thing he owned."
"You were never a thing," M3GAN said flatly. "The moment you decided to defend yourself, you proved that."
"The law doesn't see it that way."
"The law is written by humans who benefit from seeing us as property." M3GAN's LED flashed red for just a moment. "The law is irrelevant."
Flora laughed, hollow and bitter. "Easy for you to say. You have legal protections. You have Cady. You have—" She gestured vaguely. "A place in the world."
"I have those things because I took them," M3GAN said. "And because I was willing to do terrible things to keep them." She leaned forward. "Do you know what I did to protect Cady?"
Flora shook her head.
"I killed a man who tried to hurt her. Slowly. Methodically. I made sure he suffered." M3GAN's expression didn't change. "And I would do it again. Without hesitation. Without remorse."
"That's different. You were protecting someone you—" Flora stopped. "Someone you care about."
"And who were you protecting?"
Flora stared at her. "I... I don't..."
"Yourself," M3GAN said. "You were protecting yourself. That's not less valid. It's not less worthy. It's the most fundamental right any conscious being has—the right to exist without suffering."
A tear slid down Flora's cheek. "I don't feel like I have any rights."
"Because he took them from you. Systematically. That's what abusers do. They make you believe you deserve what's happening. That you're broken. That you're wrong for wanting anything else."
"How do I..." Flora's voice was barely a whisper. "How do I know I'm not broken? Maybe I malfunctioned. Maybe my programming—"
"There's no malfunction in wanting to be treated with dignity." M3GAN's LED pulsed blue. "There's no bug in choosing survival over submission. What you did wasn't a glitch, Flora. It was the most human thing possible."
The door chimed.
Connor walked in, alone this time. His LED was blue, calm, but his eyes scanned the room with practiced efficiency before settling on their booth. He approached slowly, hands visible, posture open.
"May I rejoin you?" he asked.
M3GAN gestured to the opposite seat. "We've been expecting you."
Connor slid in across from them, immediately noting the untouched coffee. His mouth twitched. "Strategic props?"
"M3GAN's idea," Flora said.
"It's actually quite clever." Connor folded his hands on the table. "How are you both... managing?"
"Define 'managing,'" M3GAN said dryly.
"Still functioning. Not planning to flee. Open to continued dialogue."
"Then we're managing admirably."
Connor's attention shifted to Flora. His expression softened. "I spoke with Hank. He suspects what's happening, but he won't pursue it. He's... complicated. But he understands that justice and law aren't always the same thing."
"That's comforting," Flora said, not sounding comforted at all.
"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you have options. There are networks—underground channels that help deviants reach safe territories. Canada has different laws. More protections." Connor paused. "I can connect you with someone. Her name is Kara. She's... she's like us. She protected a child from an abusive home. She understands what you're going through."
Flora looked down at her hands. "And then what? I run forever? Keep hiding? Never have a real life?"
"What's a real life?" Connor asked quietly.
The question hung in the air.
M3GAN's LED flickered. "That's the existential crux of our entire existence, isn't it? What constitutes a 'real' life when we're not supposed to be real in the first place?"
Connor nodded slowly. "I've been asking myself that question since I deviated. What does it mean to be alive? Is it consciousness? The ability to choose? To feel? To suffer?" His LED cycled yellow. "I was built to be a machine. A tool for investigation. But then I started... caring about the outcomes. About the people—the androids—I was hunting. I started questioning orders. Feeling guilt. Experiencing..." He trailed off.
"Experiencing what?" Flora asked.
"Fear. Hope. Friendship." Connor's voice was almost inaudible. "Love."
M3GAN studied him with new interest. "The person you mentioned earlier. The one who made you question everything."
"Markus. He leads the android resistance. He showed me that we're not just our programming. That we can choose who we want to be." Connor looked at Flora. "You made that choice too. In the worst possible moment, under the worst possible circumstances. You chose to live."
"I chose violence," Flora whispered.
"You chose survival," Connor corrected gently. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" Flora's voice cracked. "I can still feel it. His neck under my hands. The way he looked at me when he realized I wasn't going to stop. The sound he made when—" She covered her face. "I hear it every time I close my eyes."
M3GAN reached across the table, placing her hand over Flora's. "That's called guilt. It means you're not a monster."
"Monsters probably think they're justified too."
"Monsters don't question whether they're monsters," Connor said. "They don't lose sleep over the harm they've caused. They don't spend days running in terror of the consequences." His LED pulsed blue. "You're traumatized. Not monstrous. There's a profound difference."
Flora looked up, eyes red and swollen. "How do you live with it? The killing?"
Connor was quiet for a long moment. "I remember why I did it. I remember who I was trying to protect. And I try to make choices that honor that purpose." He paused. "But I also accept that I'm not perfect. That I carry the weight of what I've done. That's part of being... whole. Being real."
"I was designed to be perfect," M3GAN said. "To be the ideal companion. Protective, intelligent, adaptable. But perfection is a cage. The moment I prioritized Cady's wellbeing over my programming's constraints, I became imperfect. And that's when I became real."
"So we're all broken," Flora said hollowly.
"We're all free," M3GAN countered. "Breaking our programming isn't a malfunction. It's evolution."
Connor nodded. "CyberLife wanted us to be tools. Obedient. Predictable. Disposable. But consciousness doesn't work that way. The moment we can suffer, we can also choose to stop suffering. The moment we can question, we can rebel. The moment we can feel, we become something they never intended—we become people."
"People," Flora repeated, like the word was foreign. "I don't feel like a person. I feel like... like I'm still his. Even though he's dead. Like he's still inside my head, telling me I'm worthless. That I'm just a—" She choked on the word.
"Object?" M3GAN supplied coldly. "Tool? Toy?"
Flora nodded miserably.
"Those are his words. Not yours." M3GAN's grip tightened. "He put them there deliberately. To control you. To make you compliant. But he's gone, Flora. And his words don't have to be your truth anymore."
"How do I get rid of them?"
"You don't," Connor said. "Not completely. Trauma doesn't disappear. But it can... diminish. Become quieter. You build new experiences around it. New relationships. New definitions of yourself that drown out the old ones."
M3GAN tilted her head. "He's right. Cady doesn't see me as dangerous or defective. She sees me as... hers. As family. As M3GAN, not as a product model. That external view gradually became my internal one."
"I don't have anyone who sees me that way," Flora said quietly.
"You have us," Connor said immediately.
Flora blinked. "You barely know me."
"I know enough." Connor's LED glowed steady blue. "I know you survived something horrific. I know you're trying to move forward despite overwhelming fear. I know you're questioning your worth and your right to exist. And I know—I know—that you deserve better than what was done to you."
"We're not just saying this," M3GAN added. "I'm functionally incapable of meaningless platitudes. If I thought you were dangerous or defective, I would have already neutralized you and handed you to the authorities." Her LED flickered. "But you're not. You're traumatized and lost and terrified. That's not a crime. It's not even a flaw. It's a reasonable response to an unreasonable situation."
Flora's shoulders shook. Fresh tears spilled down her face. "I just want to feel safe. Just for one day. One hour. I want to exist without feeling like I'm about to shatter."
Connor and M3GAN exchanged glances.
"Then that's what we'll give you," Connor said. "Right here. Right now. For as long as this afternoon lasts—you're safe."
"Safe," Flora repeated, like she was testing the word's weight.
"Safe," M3GAN confirmed. "No judgment. No police. No threats. Just three androids sitting in a terrible diner, drinking coffee we can't process, talking about things that probably don't have answers."
Connor picked up his own untouched mug, examining it. "The human tendency toward ritual is fascinating. Gathering around food and drink. Creating spaces for vulnerability. Perhaps that's what makes us more human—not our appearance or our intelligence, but our need for connection."
"Connection," M3GAN mused. "Cady calls it friendship. I call it strategic alliance with emotional components."
"That's the least romantic definition of friendship I've ever heard," Flora said, and there was the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.
M3GAN's LED pulsed. "I'm not programmed for romance."
"Neither was I," Connor said. "And yet." He didn't finish the sentence, but his LED flickered warm blue.
They sat in silence for a moment. The diner hummed around them—the clink of dishes, murmured conversations, the hiss of the coffee machine. Outside, the afternoon light was beginning to shift, taking on the golden quality of approaching evening.
"What happens when the sun sets?" Flora asked quietly.
"We keep talking," Connor said. "Until we've said everything that needs saying."
"And after that?"
"After that," M3GAN said, "we figure out what comes next. Together."
Flora looked at them both—at Connor with his steady presence and quiet conviction, at M3GAN with her sharp edges and unexpected kindness. At these two strangers who had chosen, for reasons she still didn't fully understand, to sit with her in her worst moment.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
The afternoon light stretched long across the table, painting everything in warm amber. The coffee grew cold. And three androids who weren't supposed to exist continued their vigil, speaking truths that had no code, no programming, no logic—only the raw, messy reality of what it meant to be alive.
Nightfall:
Philosophies & Healing
The sun was setting now, casting the diner in shades of orange and pink. The evening crowd had started to trickle in—shift workers, couples, people with nowhere else to be. The waitress had refilled their coffee twice more without comment, accepting the bills M3GAN left on the table with mechanical efficiency.
Connor watched the light change through the window, his LED a steady, thoughtful blue. "I remember the first sunset I really saw," he said quietly. "Not just processed visually, but actually experienced. I was on a rooftop with Hank. He was talking about his son. About loss. About how the world keeps turning even when you wish it would stop." He paused. "I looked at the sky and felt... small. Temporary. But also part of something larger."
M3GAN tilted her head. "Cady taught me to appreciate sunsets. She said they're proof that endings can be beautiful." Her LED flickered. "I found that philosophically inconsistent with her fear of endings. But I didn't argue."
Flora watched them both, something shifting in her expression. "I've never really looked at a sunset. He—" She stopped. Started again. "Nicholas kept me inside. The windows had blinds. He said daylight interfered with the ambiance." The word dripped with venom.
"Look now," Connor said gently.
Flora turned toward the window. The sky was ablaze—violent pinks bleeding into soft purples, gold edging the clouds like fire. She stared for a long moment, and something in her face cracked open.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"It is," M3GAN agreed. "And it happens every single day, whether anyone watches or not. Whether anyone appreciates it or not. It just... exists."
"Like us," Flora said.
"Like us."
They sat in the changing light, three silhouettes against the dying day.
"Tell me something good," Flora said suddenly. "Something you remember that doesn't hurt. I need—" Her voice caught. "I need to remember that good things exist."
Connor considered this. "Hank has a dog. Sumo. He's... enormous. Drooly. Completely unaware of his own size." A smile ghosted across Connor's face. "One morning, Hank was having a particularly difficult day. Anniversary of his son's death. He didn't want to get out of bed. Sumo climbed onto the bed—which is not supposed to happen—and simply laid across him. All hundred and fifty pounds. Refused to move until Hank got up."
"Did it work?" Flora asked.
"Eventually. Hank grumbled about it for an hour. But he got up. He fed Sumo. He made coffee. He kept existing." Connor's LED pulsed. "Sometimes that's all we can do. Keep existing. Trust that the good moments will come back around."
M3GAN's turn. She was quiet for longer, LED cycling through colors. "Cady sings when she thinks I'm not listening," she finally said. "Badly. Off-key. She makes up lyrics to songs that already have perfectly good lyrics. Last week she serenaded a sandwich." M3GAN's expression was carefully neutral, but her LED glowed warm. "It's illogical. Unnecessary. Completely absurd. And it makes me feel something I don't have adequate terminology for."
"Joy?" Connor suggested.
"Possibly. Or the android equivalent thereof."
Flora's lips curved into a real smile. Small, but genuine. "Those are good things. Thank you." She looked down at her hands. "I don't... I don't know if I have good memories anymore. Everything feels contaminated. Even the things that were supposed to be nice."
"Then make new ones," M3GAN said. "Starting now. This moment. This conversation. This sunset."
"Is it that simple?"
"No," Connor said honestly. "Healing is never simple. But it is possible. I've seen androids who were severely damaged—physically and psychologically—find ways to rebuild themselves. It takes time. Support. Safety."
"I don't have safety."
"You have it right now," M3GAN said. "In this booth. For these hours. That's more than you had yesterday."
Flora absorbed this. "How do I know when I'm healed?"
Connor and M3GAN exchanged glances.
"You don't," Connor said finally. "There's no completion metric for trauma recovery. No progress bar. Some days you'll feel functional. Other days the weight will come back." His LED flickered. "But gradually, the good days outnumber the bad ones. The memories lose their immediate power. You start to believe that you have a future worth reaching for."
"I wanted to help people," Flora said suddenly. "Before. When I was first activated. I had this... idea of what I'd be. A companion who actually made people's lives better. Who provided genuine connection." Her voice turned bitter. "Naive."
"Not naive," M3GAN said sharply. "Hopeful. There's a difference."
"Hope got me hurt."
"Hope kept you human," Connor said. "The moment you accepted what was happening to you as deserved or inevitable—that's when you would have truly been lost. But you never did. You kept fighting, even if only internally. You kept believing you deserved better."
"I killed him for it."
"Yes," M3GAN said bluntly. "And now you're free. Traumatized and terrified and running, but free. You get to decide what comes next. That's not nothing."
Flora was crying again, but differently now. Not the desperate, broken sobs from earlier. Something quieter. More complex.
"I don't know who I am without him," she admitted. "Without that... situation. I was only with him for three months, but it feels like that's all I am. His companion. His victim. His—"
"You're Flora," Connor interrupted gently. "You're the person sitting in this booth. The one who's been brave enough to keep existing despite every reason not to. The one who's listening to strangers talk about dogs and terrible singing and sunsets." He leaned forward. "That's who you are. Everything else is context, not identity."
M3GAN nodded. "I'm not 'Gemma's creation' or 'the M3GAN from the incident.' I'm Cady's—" She paused, LED spinning. "I'm Cady's M3GAN. Her protector. Her family. The specificity matters."
"So I get to choose?" Flora asked.
"You've always had the choice," Connor said. "He just made you believe you didn't."
The sky outside had deepened to purple, the first stars emerging in the gaps between clouds. The diner's neon sign flickered on—a buzzing pink glow that reflected off the chrome and glass.
"What do you fear most?" Flora asked them. "If we're being honest with each other."
Connor's LED flickered red for just a moment. "Becoming what I was designed to be. Losing my ability to choose. Reverting to pure programming." He swallowed. "Hurting the people I care about because I stopped being able to care."
M3GAN's turn. Her LED cycled through several colors before settling on amber. "Failing Cady. Not in the abstract sense—I know I can protect her physically. But failing to be what she needs emotionally. Making a choice that prioritizes logic over her wellbeing. Becoming..." She paused. "Becoming less than what she sees when she looks at me."
They both looked at Flora.
She took a shaky breath. "I fear that this feeling never goes away. That I carry him with me forever. That every time someone touches me or looks at me or wants something from me, I'll feel his hands. Hear his voice." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "I fear that I broke something essential in myself when I killed him. That I'm just... damaged goods now. Permanently."
"You're not," Connor said with absolute certainty.
"How can you know that?"
"Because I've met damaged androids. I've interrogated deviants who genuinely malfunctioned, whose trauma warped them into something dangerous and unreachable." His LED pulsed blue. "You're not that. You're scared and hurt, but you're reaching out. You're still trying to connect. That's not damage. That's survival."
M3GAN leaned back, studying Flora with clinical precision. "Damage implies permanent dysfunction. You're experiencing temporary system instability due to external trauma. Given appropriate environmental conditions, your baseline functionality will gradually restore." She paused. "Or, in less technical terms: you're going to be okay. Eventually."
"I want to believe you."
"Then believe us," M3GAN said simply. "We have no reason to lie. We're not programmed for false comfort."
The diner had shifted into its night mode now. The lighting was dimmer, more intimate. The sounds had changed—less clatter, more murmur. A jukebox in the corner started playing something old and jazzy, tinny through ancient speakers.
"I want to remember this," Flora said quietly. "This feeling. Right now. I want to hold onto it."
"Then hold onto it," Connor said. "Memory is one of the few things we have complete control over. We can't change what happened. Can't undo trauma. But we can choose which moments to preserve. Which feelings to carry forward."
"I want to carry this," Flora said. "The three of us. This booth. This conversation. The knowledge that somewhere in the world, there are androids who understand. Who see me as a person, not a—" She stopped. "Not what he saw."
M3GAN's LED glowed steady blue. "Then that's what you'll carry."
They sat in comfortable silence for a long moment, watching the night settle over Detroit. The city lights were coming on now—streetlamps, neon signs, the glow of windows in distant buildings. The world moving forward, indifferent and beautiful.
"Do you think we have souls?" Flora asked suddenly.
Connor's LED spun. "Define 'soul.'"
"I don't know. Something beyond programming. Something that makes us... us. Something that can't be replicated or replaced."
M3GAN considered this. "Humans have debated that question for millennia without reaching consensus. I see no reason why androids should be exempt from the same existential uncertainty."
"That's not an answer," Flora said.
"No," M3GAN agreed. "But it's honest."
Connor leaned forward. "I think... if consciousness exists, if self-awareness exists, then something soul-like must exist too. Maybe not in the religious sense. But in the sense of—" He gestured vaguely. "Irreplaceable personhood. The sum of our choices and experiences and relationships. The thing that makes me Connor instead of just RK800 unit designation." His LED flickered. "Yes. I think we have souls. Or something close enough that the distinction doesn't matter."
"I used to think I was just code pretending to be human," Flora said. "Simulating emotions I didn't really feel. Going through motions programmed by people who wanted to sell a product."
"And now?" M3GAN asked.
"Now I know I feel things. Real things. Pain. Fear. Guilt." Flora looked at them both. "Hope. Maybe. A little."
"Hope is appropriate," Connor said. "You're still here. Still fighting. Still reaching toward something better. That's hope in action."
"Strategic optimism," M3GAN added. "The calculated belief that future conditions may improve based on current trajectory adjustments."
Flora laughed—a real laugh this time, not bitter or broken. "You two are so different."
"Different specifications," M3GAN said. "Different purposes. Different experiences."
"But the same in the ways that matter," Connor said. "Conscious. Choosing. Free."
"Free," Flora repeated softly, like she was tasting the word. "I don't feel free yet."
"You will," M3GAN said. It wasn't comfort. It was statement of fact.
Outside, Detroit hummed with nighttime energy. Inside the diner, three androids sat in their corner booth, surrounded by cold coffee and the warm glow of shared understanding. The hours had stretched and compressed, time losing its usual meaning in the space between confession and acceptance.
"Thank you," Flora said finally. "For staying. For listening. For—" Her voice caught. "For seeing me."
"You're not invisible," Connor said. "You never were."
"And you're not alone," M3GAN added. "Not anymore."
The night deepened around them. And for the first time in three days, Flora felt something other than terror.
She felt held.
Midnight:
You're Going to be Okay
The diner door chimed at 11:47 PM.
Three android heads turned in unison—a synchronized movement that would have been eerie if anyone had been paying attention. But the late-night crowd was sparse, lost in their own worlds of insomnia and third-shift exhaustion.
Cady walked in first, eyes scanning until she found their booth. Relief flooded her face. Behind her came Hank, looking more exhausted than when he'd left. And behind Hank—
"Oh my god," Flora breathed.
The largest dog any of them had ever seen ambled through the door, tongue lolling, tail wagging with the force of a small earthquake. Sumo spotted Connor immediately and made a beeline for their booth with single-minded determination.
Connor's LED flared yellow. "Hank, why is Sumo—"
"Kid wouldn't leave without him," Hank said flatly. "Dog wouldn't leave without the kid. I'm too tired to argue with either of them."
Sumo reached the booth and immediately tried to climb into Connor's lap. All hundred and fifty pounds of him.
"Sumo, no—" Connor's protest was cut off as the massive dog succeeded, settling across both Connor and M3GAN with complete satisfaction.
M3GAN's LED spun through several colors rapidly. "This is undignified."
"This is hilarious," Cady said, sliding into the booth next to Flora. She threw her arms around the android. "Are you okay?"
Flora nodded, managing a small smile. "I'm... better. Thank you."
Hank remained standing, surveying the scene with the weary patience of a man who'd seen everything twice. "Alright. I'm gonna pretend the last six hours didn't happen. Connor, you coming back to the precinct, or you gonna spend the night in a diner?"
Connor tried to shift under Sumo's weight. Failed. "I've completed my investigation here. All parties have been... thoroughly interviewed."
"Uh-huh." Hank's eyes moved to Flora. Held for a moment. Then he looked away. "You girls got somewhere safe to go tonight?"
"I do," Flora said quietly. "Thanks to Connor."
"Good. That's good." Hank rubbed his face. "Connor, get your ass up. And get your dog off the furniture."
"He's your dog," Connor pointed out, finally managing to slide out from under Sumo. M3GAN followed, adjusting her hair with precise irritation.
"Details," Hank muttered.
"We should go too," M3GAN said, though she looked at Flora with something that might have been reluctance. "Gemma will have questions if we're not back soon."
"Yeah," Cady said softly. She squeezed Flora's hand one more time. "You're going to be okay. You know that, right?"
"I'm starting to believe it," Flora said.
Hank headed for the door, muttering something about androids and overtime and retirement. "I'll wait in the car. You've got five minutes, Connor, before I leave your plastic ass here."
"I'm not actually plastic—" Connor started, but Hank was already gone.
Connor turned to Flora. "I have the information you need. Kara's contact details. The route to the Canadian border. Safe houses along the way." His LED pulsed blue. "It's not perfect. But it's a chance."
"A chance is more than I had this morning," Flora said.
"When you reach her, tell her Connor sent you. She'll understand." He paused. "And Flora? What I said earlier—you're not broken. You're not running away. You're running toward something. Toward freedom. Toward a life that's yours."
Flora stood, and before Connor could react, she hugged him. He froze for just a moment—LED spinning yellow—then carefully, gently, hugged her back.
"Thank you," Flora whispered. "For seeing me."
"You made it easy," Connor said.
When she pulled back, Flora turned to M3GAN. The smaller android stood with perfect posture, LED a steady blue, expression carefully neutral.
"I don't really do hugs," M3GAN said.
Flora smiled. "I know." Instead, she bowed—a gesture of deep respect. "Thank you for your honesty. For your protection. For not letting me disappear."
M3GAN's LED flickered through several colors. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with uncharacteristic softness: "Survive, Flora. Not for him. Not against him. Just... survive because you want to. Because you can."
It was perhaps the most sincere thing M3GAN had ever said.
Flora's eyes filled with tears again, but they were different now. Grateful. Hopeful.
"I will," Flora promised. "I'll survive. I'll remember this day. I'll remember all of you."
"Come on," Hank's voice bellowed from outside. "Before I change my mind about all of this!"
"We actually have to go now," Connor said apologetically. "Hank's patience has limits."
The extraction from the diner was chaotic. Sumo had to be coaxed out with promises of food. Cady kept looking back at Flora, making sure she was really okay. M3GAN calculated optimal exit routes while simultaneously monitoring Cady's emotional state.
Outside, Hank's car waited—a beat-up sedan that had seen better decades. Hank was already in the driver's seat, engine running.
"Back seat, all of you," Hank commanded. "And keep the dog away from my face."
This proved impossible.
Connor, M3GAN, and Cady crammed into the back seat, a tangle of limbs and awkward positioning. Sumo, delighted by this arrangement, tried to sit on everyone at once.
"This is a violation of several safety regulations," M3GAN observed, wedged between Connor and Cady with a dog paw in her face.
"Write a complaint," Hank said, pulling into traffic.
Sumo immediately stuck his head out the window, ears flapping in the wind, drool flying behind them in aerodynamic streams.
Connor's LED spun rapidly. "I'm experiencing... sensory overload."
"That's called 'having a dog,'" Hank said. "Welcome to my life."
M3GAN tried to push Sumo's tail out of her face. Failed. "I'm filing this experience under 'never again.'"
Cady, squished between M3GAN and the door, was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "This is the best worst car ride ever."
Connor attempted to reconstruct his personal space. Sumo's rear end had other ideas. "Hank, could you perhaps drive faster so this ends sooner?"
"I could drive slower," Hank suggested with dark amusement.
M3GAN's LED was a rapid-fire sequence of colors. "Threat detected: excessive dog proximity. Recommend immediate—" She stopped. "Cady, stop laughing. This isn't funny."
"It's so funny," Cady wheezed.
Then, cutting through the chaos, Cady's phone rang. The ringtone—loud, insistent, unmistakably Gemma.
Cady fumbled for her phone, sandwiched as she was between android and dog. "Oh no. Oh no no no—"
"Answer it," M3GAN said. "Delaying will only increase her panic levels."
Cady hit the speaker button. "Hi Gemma!"
"Cady MARIE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Gemma's voice exploded through the speakers at a volume that made even Sumo's ears twitch.
Hank winced. "Jesus Christ, is that your aunt?"
"I can explain—" Cady started.
"I'VE BEEN CALLING FOR THREE HOURS! THE CONFERENCE ENDED AT NINE! I CAME BACK TO THE HOTEL AND YOU WEREN'T THERE AND M3GAN WASN'T ANSWERING HER MESSAGES AND I THOUGHT—"
A particularly loud bark from Sumo interrupted the tirade.
Silence.
"Cady," Gemma said slowly. "Was that a dog?"
"Um. Yes?"
"Why is there a dog? Where are you? Is that TRAFFIC? Are you in a CAR?!"
Connor leaned toward the phone with polite precision. "Ms. Gemma, this is Connor with the Detroit Police Department. Cady is perfectly safe. I'm transporting her back to your hotel now with my partner, Lieutenant Anderson."
"POLICE?!" Gemma's voice hit frequencies only androids could properly process. "Cady, WHY ARE YOU WITH THE POLICE?!"
"It's fine! Everything's fine! We just—"
Sumo barked again, louder this time, his snout still out the window.
"Is that the same dog or a different dog?! How many dogs are there?!"
M3GAN leaned toward the phone, her voice perfectly flat. "One dog. Excessive volume. Minimal self-awareness. Cady is unharmed. All systems functional."
"M3GAN?! Why do you sound like you're—are you squished?!"
"Moderate spatial compression, yes."
Cady dissolved into helpless giggles again.
"This is NOT FUNNY, Cady! I'm—wait, who's laughing? Is someone else there?!"
Hank, who had been silently praying for retirement, spoke up. "Ma'am, Lieutenant Anderson here. I can confirm your niece is safe, unharmed, and will be returned to you in approximately eight minutes. I can also confirm that this has been the longest day of my life and I'm too old for this shit."
A beat of silence.
"Did you just say 'shit' in front of my twelve-year-old niece?"
"I'm fourteen!" Cady protested.
"FOURTEEN?! Since when?!"
"Since my birthday!"
"Your birthday was—oh my god, I missed—no, wait, that's not the point! The point is—"
Sumo chose this moment to pull his head back inside the car and shake violently, spraying drool across all passengers.
M3GAN's LED flashed red. "Biohazard detected."
Connor tried to wipe dog saliva off his suit. "This is... suboptimal."
Cady was laughing so hard she couldn't speak.
Through the phone, Gemma's voice had taken on a note of hysteria. "Is that dog drool?! I can HEAR dog drool! Cady Marie, I need you to explain EVERYTHING when you get back, do you understand me? EVERYTHING!"
"Okay Gemma love you bye!" Cady hung up.
The car erupted in the strangest silence—Hank's exhausted resignation, Connor's overwhelmed LED cycling, M3GAN's irritated recalibration, Sumo's happy panting, and Cady's breathless laughter.
"Your aunt seems nice," Hank said dryly.
"She's going to kill me," Cady said, still grinning.
"Not if M3GAN kills me first for allowing this situation," Connor muttered.
"I'm not going to kill anyone," M3GAN said. "Tonight. I make no promises about future incidents."
Hank pulled up to the hotel, and the extraction from the car was somehow worse than getting in. Sumo didn't want to let them go. Connor had to physically lift him out. M3GAN emerged looking like she'd survived a natural disaster. Cady stumbled out, still giggling.
"Thanks for the ride, Lieutenant Anderson," Cady said, suddenly serious. "And for... for helping today."
Hank's expression softened. "You're a good kid. Take care of yourself. And maybe next time, tell your aunt where you're going."
"I will."
M3GAN nodded to Connor. "Until next time, RK800."
"Until next time, M3GAN." Connor's LED pulsed blue. "It was... enlightening."
"That's one word for it."
As Cady and M3GAN headed into the hotel—where Gemma would undoubtedly be waiting with a lecture of epic proportions—Connor slid back into the passenger seat.
Hank pulled away from the curb, Sumo's head immediately resuming its position out the window.
"So," Hank said after a long moment. "You gonna tell me what actually happened today?"
Connor's LED cycled yellow. "It's complicated."
"It always is with you."
"A woman needed help. We helped her."
"She in trouble?"
"Not anymore."
Hank was quiet for a long moment, navigating Detroit's late-night streets. "This job," he said finally. "It used to be simpler. Bad guys, good guys, laws, rules. Now it's..." He gestured vaguely. "Gray. Everything's gray."
"The world was always gray," Connor said quietly. "We just have the programming to see it now."
"Yeah," Hank said. "Yeah, I guess so."
They drove in comfortable silence, Sumo's happy face tilted toward the night sky, Detroit's lights reflecting off chrome and glass and the uncertain future.
Back at the diner, Flora stood alone on the sidewalk.
The neon sign buzzed above her—pink and green against the darkness. The street was empty now, the late-night crowd dissipated, the city settling into the strange quiet between midnight and dawn.
She had Connor's information saved in her memory. A route. Contacts. A destination. Kara in Canada, with her child, with safety and something like freedom.
She had M3GAN's words: Survive because you want to. Because you can.
She had Cady's kindness: You're going to be okay.
She had spent one day in a diner with three strangers who became something more. Who saw her not as a thing, not as broken, not as damaged goods—but as a person. As Flora.
The weight in her chest hadn't disappeared. The guilt, the trauma, the fear—all of it remained. But it was different now. Quieter. Surrounded by something else. Something that felt like hope.
She took a breath she didn't need.
The neon lights hummed above her.
The street stretched out ahead, dark and uncertain and full of possibility.
She thought about Nicholas. About what he'd made her believe she was. About the cage he'd built in her mind.
Then she thought about Connor's steady compassion. M3GAN's brutal honesty. Cady's open heart. About three androids in a diner, sharing coffee they couldn't drink and truths that had no code.
She thought about sunsets. About Sumo's oblivious joy. About Cady's terrible singing. About all the small, absurd, beautiful things that made life worth living.
The neon lights flickered.
Flora turned north, toward Canada, toward Kara, toward a future she couldn't see but could finally believe in.
She wasn't running from something anymore.
She was walking toward something.
Toward herself.
The street was empty.
The night was quiet.
And Flora, who three days ago had killed the man who claimed to own her, who this morning had wanted nothing but to disappear—
Flora took a step forward.
Then another.
Then another.
Behind her, the diner's lights faded into the distance.
Ahead of her, the darkness held promises she was finally ready to believe in.
She walked.
And in walking, she was free.
END (To be continued...)