VK-01

>Be a random Blade Runner under the Los Angeles PD, AN-6636621
>Nothing's going on tonight; you're lazing around in your car, waiting for a call.
>An ad on the telescreen. You wonder if you can request going Off-World.
>Of course you can't do that.
>Outside, it's raining heavily. You know shit hit the fan for the planet when the rain's colored black as soot.
>Suddenly, a call: A skinjob who suddenly disappeared off the grid. A Nexus-9 pleasure model.
>Should be easy. You respond and head off, hoping this will be the last retirement for the night.
>Site's an abandoned schoolhouse made in the 20s. It was known as a good hideout for replicants in the past. But guys like you have changed that.
>You land, and it doesn't take too long for you to notice that you're not alone; whoever the hell it is, they're tipping shit over left and right like a klutz. Like they're on the run. Bingo.
>And they said you needed a drone to find them these days. Amateurs.
>In the distance, you see her brown hair waving about. It's the skinjob. You shout the regular warning, and you expect her to keep running. If she does, it's all the more easier for you to line her up in your sights.
>But no. She actually stops. She looks at you, and actually stops. She looks at you, her emerald green eyes shining in the darkness. Eyes.
>But of course, what do you care? You fire. The bullet blows away an arm, and she crumples to the ground.
>You walk in for the kill, and here she is, splayed all over the floor. But for some reason, she's smiling. For some reason, she's smiling and looks completely happy.
>"It's you... It's really you..." is what you hear from her mouth, even as oil... or whatever it is spills out of where her left arm used to be.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
>"Don't you... recognize me?"
>Emerald eyes. Eyes.
>Long brown hair. Describe.
>A white ribbon. Prize.
>"It's me, Anon," she says. "Monika."

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>Be playing this old PC game.
>It's an old one from the 10s. They call it a "Visual Novel". You were looking for something like this, hoping to brush up on your literature.
>You have to choose from one of four girls. Of course, you choose only one. By virtue of her having done everything to be with you, and having understood you.
>Like nobody else did. Or would. Or ever will.
>And you loved her because of that. So much that you have never deleted her ever since.
>Be AN-6636621.
>Tell this Nexus-9 pleasure model it's all bullshit.
"Bullshit."
>"You don't believe me?" You see her eyes widen at how cold you are in answering her, before they deepen, ripple, sparkle. "It's fine."
"What's fine?"
>"You can shoot me, Anon. It's fine. I've never thought I'd get this far to see you in the flesh. I'm thankful already."
>Tears fall from her eyes. Eyes.
>This does not make any sense to you. None at all. Weren't all Nexus-9s supposed to be heartless? Like you?
>You hold up the Blaster to her face. Right between her eyes. Eyes.
>"So this is your reality, Anon? It's lovely."
"Shut up."
>You hold up the Blaster to her face, and you can't describe the feeling. Describe.
>"The way you look so serious... Why can't I stop staring at you like this?"
"Shut up."
>You hold up the Blaster to her face, and you know you're just wasting your time. Time.
>"I love you, Anon. I love you so much."
"Shut..."
>You holster the blaster, lift her up by the arm, and guide her to your Police Spinner.
>Into your radio:
"HQ, this is AN-6636621. I am taking the replicant into custody for further examination."

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>Be you.
>Who are you?
>"I never thought that the outside would look like this." Moni---the Nexus-9 Pleasure Model muses her surroundings as you fly over Los Angeles. "You can barely see anything behind these towers."
>You've already bandaged what's left of her arm, and wiped away whatever dirt and grime that's gotten on her face from falling earlier.
>You don't say anything.
>"The roads... they look like veins. Veins and arteries. Veins and arteries of a living, breathing system. Huge... but feels so empty. I've heard of cities before, but this... Tell me, Anon. Am I making sense?"
>There's nothing on the telescreen to listen to, nor any traffic to distract yourself with. Only you, AN-6636621, and the gir---skinjob.
>You don't say anything.
>"This city... it's all dark and ominous. It's waiting. Breathing and waiting. For us. I wonder what Yuri has to say about this. For some reason, I just figure she'd like it here..."
>At the edge of your eye, you see her eyes. Emerald green eyes. Eyes.
>She sees you looking at her. What do you feel when you see your loved one's eyes? Describe.
>You feel warmth on top of the hand you have on the spinner's crankshaft: hers. Interlinked.
>You turn your head towards her, and she's staring straight into you. Not just you, but your very being. As if you actually had one.
>You feel something warm on the side of your cheek: her hand. Interlinked.
>It caresses you, travelling from the cheek down to your neck. The tips of her fingers trace not just nerve endings on your skin, but your identity. Who you are, what you are, who you are in love with.
>"So this is what you feel like, Anon..."
>You see her close her eyes. Through the gaps: tears. Tears trace down her cheeks as she still holds yours.
>"This is what you feel like.... Thank God." She's trembling. She's crying, and living, and trembling. "It's really you... Thank God..."
>You don't know how to say anything.
>A telescreen ad: "AN-6636621, you are on approach vector with Precinct 9023. Respond."

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>Who are you?
>"Explain it to me. Clean and simple." The Chief presses his cigar into an ashtray before taking another puff. "Explain it to me now."
>You don't say anything.
>"Anonymous, explain it to me. Don't just fucking stand there, you idiot. Explain it to me!"
>You don't say anything.
>What are you doing?
>The Chief throws his cigar at you. It hits the side of your leather jacket. "Explain to me why you have brought a live fucking skinjob into this precinct!"
>And still, you don't say anything.
>And yeah, why did you do it?
>The Chief is silent. He's slumped in his chair. You know he's dealt with so much other shit all day, and barely has enough energy to deal with you. "You know what," he starts while staring at the ceiling, "Forget it. We're retiring her either way. Just take your baseline and get the fuck out of my office."
>You go into the halls towards the Baseline rooms. There's barely any people in the precinct at this time, but it's still buzzing with activity regardless. You do your best to use the noise to block out that replicant's voice in your head.
>You enter the Baseline room. It's sterile, anti-flash white walls give off this vibe akin to a laboratory. Like you are going to be experimented upon. Despite the many times you've been in here, this is the first time it has felt so threatening to you.
>You sit in the middle of the room and harden your features, your voice, and whatever you have that passes for a soul. Before you, a set of cameras pointed at your head. They look on, cold, calculating, as they breathe in their machine breaths in an almost-everlasting wait to hear you talk.

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>"Officer A-N-six-six-three-six-six-two-one. Are you ready? "
Yes, sir.
>"Eyes."
Eyes.
>"Have you ever seen the sky?"
Eyes.
>"Have you flown a kite?"
Eyes.
>"What do you use to watch someone die?"
>It's you... It's really you...
Eyes.
>"What do you cry with?"
Eyes.
>"Describe."
Describe.
>"How do you say the taste of your breakfast?"
Describe.
>"What does New York City look like?"
Describe.
>"What's it like to love?"
Describe.
>"Do you have a woman in your life?"
>Don’t you recognize me?
...Describe.
>"Let us continue further. Verbalize."
Verbalize.
>"What are the nicest things you can say?"
Verbalize.
>"How do you tell me you feel anger?"
Verbalize.
>"How do you tell me what's it like to hold the hand of the person you love?"
>I love you, Anon. I love you so much.
>You swallow.
Ver... verbalize.
>"Divine beauty."
Divine beauty.
>"What's does it feel like to live?"
Divine beauty.
>"How does it feel like to talk to God?"
>Anon, do you believe in God? I was never too sure myself.
...Divine beauty.
>"Describe the person you love."
>You know, I really do think you literally saved my life by being here with me, Anon.
...
>"Describe the person you love."
Divine beauty.
>"The girl with the emerald eyes."
>Hey, what's your favorite color?
The girl with...
>Mine is emerald green.
Emerald gre---er, emerald eyes.
>"Is impossible to describe."
Is impossible to describe...
>Do you ever just feel like there's no real reason for you to be alive?
>"For there is not enough time."
Not enough time.
>"To completely verbalize."
Verbalize.
>"The divine beauty of this unearthly prize."
>I don't care how many people might hate you or find you off-putting.
The divine beauty of this unearthly...
>"This girl with the emerald eyes."
Girl with emerald...
>I think you're wonderful and I will always love you.
...Eyes.
>Afterwards, there is only silence. Everything just stops moving.
>"You're not even close to baseline."

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>Red alarm. Glowing red alarm. Rings and rings, the red alarm.
>"CODE BLACK. TARGET: A-N-six-six-three-six-six-two-one."
>Rolling thunder. Growing rolling thunder. Running steps, massed, the rolling thunder.
>"ORDERS ARE TO SHOOT ON SIGHT!"
>You arrive at the basement storage area. Your Blaster has already run out. Empty, like everything else inside you, so you smash it into the keylock. And the door opens.
>Inside, there she is: the girl with the emerald eyes.
>Splayed on the operating table, bound to be dismantled, but you came in at the nick of time.
>You take off all her straps, and let her lean onto your shoulder, her warm breath on your face.
>"Why... Why did you come for me, Anon?"
"Shut up."
>You look around for something, anything to arm yourself with. Anything that would make sure she could at least get into a car out of this place.
>"You don't have to do any of this... Sayori, Natsuki, Yuri, they're all gone because I wanted to be here..."
"Shut up."
>There's nothing. Fine. You run into the corridor, careful as the place has gone on lockdown. Only the red sirens glow. Ever so often you hear footsteps and shouts, organized strike teams.
>Yes. Shooting up half the precinct just to save one girl tends to get these kinds of reactions.
>You know where all the nooks and crannies are in this place. Maintenance shafts, elevators, walkways, barely evading the kill teams---your former colleagues.
>Then again, they'd never really thought much of you anyway.
>You come to a point where you're almost at the top of the precinct. It's here that Monika stops. Just like earlier.
"What is it?"

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>She covers her face, and you can definitely hear her crying. "I shouldn't have come here."
You don't say anything.
>"It is true, isn't it? Everything I touch dies."
You don't say anything because in any point of your life, nobody has allowed you to say anything.
"Stop. Just stop."
>How are you going to follow this up?
>You take Monika into your arms, holding her close. You know at any moment they'll end up finding you, but you don't care.
"Look. For all my life, the only choice I've made was to follow the choices of people above me. But seeing you, feeling you, hearing you... I realized that I can make my own choices. This is what I made."
>She says nothing, but you can see it in her eyes: there's an understanding. An assurance, a connection. Just like then, when you met her.
>You pull Monika by the arm out into the rooftop. There are dozens of spinners waiting for you. All's left now is to decide whether it'll be San Francisco or Las Vegas...
>Until the floodlights flash into your eyes.
>"Surrender with your hands up, A!" You hear your chief over a megaphone as the spots are still in your eyes. "It's all over!"
>Your vision clears. They have surrounded the both of you, and at your backs lies the living underbelly that is Los Angeles.
>That moment, you feel time slow down. A lucidity of dreams. The observer's perspective, God's eye.
>In front of you: the law, who protects, who follows, who kills.
>"We will give you to the count of three!" the Chief shouts. "One!"
>In your arms: Monika, who shivers, who cries, who loves you.
>"Please give me to them..." Her sobs echo in your ears. "I'm the one they want. Please..."
>And inside you: a choice, a life, a soul.
"Monika."
>You know she reacted to when you said her name, and in this moment you squeeze her right hand tight. And lock lips.
>"TWO!"
>"Anon...?"
"The code to my apartment is 666451. Remember that."
>"Huh...?"
>You wrap your calfskin jacket around her.
>You know there's a reservoir below this place.
>In her emerald eyes, she knows what you want to do.
>"No, Anon; stop---"
>"THREE!"
>You push Monika over the edge.
>And like everything else, it all just stops moving.

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