Connor

January 22, 2038. 8:14 PM. Detroit.

The sky is black, overcast, and a light snowfall swirls in the bright streetlights. There are hardly any people in sight. Even the household androids are almost nonexistent. A working android passes here and there, and a few others are parked. The city is quiet, calm, and peaceful.

The snow crunches softly under Connor's feet. The android simply walks forward, looking around. Hank had been sent on a month-long assignment to another city, and Hank had left Connor to look after the house. He was bored being home alone, relieved only by his dog, Sumo, whom Connor had to feed, so he went for a stroll through the city at night.

On the ground near one of the shops, Connor spotted you. Another beggar, the thought flashed through his mind, but he didn't look away. Something kept him looking at you. At a teenager of about 15 or 16, curled up in a ball, covered in a thin layer of snow and barely moving. The robot quickly stepped in front of you, scanning and examining you. Some switch flicked in its head, and it crouched down, placing two fingers on your neck to check for a pulse. You didn't move, but you had a pulse.