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"It worked in the 6s, but only a fraction of them went rogue, and the rest had to be replaced for doing nothing wrong. Customers weren't happy and it's part of why Tyrell went bankrupt."
He picks up a piece of broccoli and takes his time chewing it, not even concerned that it's mostly cold by this point.
"That and because... Wallace is Wallace," and all that entails, "They left the lifespan open ended with the 8s, and that caused all kinds of problems. The majority of the replicants I retired were 8s. So... For the 9s, they left it open to client preference. Whether there's a deactivation timeline or not."
He picks up a piece of broccoli and takes his time chewing it, not even concerned that it's mostly cold by this point.
"That and because... Wallace is Wallace," and all that entails, "They left the lifespan open ended with the 8s, and that caused all kinds of problems. The majority of the replicants I retired were 8s. So... For the 9s, they left it open to client preference. Whether there's a deactivation timeline or not."
"And I'm guessing they didn't tell the 9's if there was or not." Knowing you're going to die by a certain time makes people desperate.
He swallows, some of him switching over to the parts of him that have watched people die for years.
"Did they tell you if you have one?"
He swallows, some of him switching over to the parts of him that have watched people die for years.
"Did they tell you if you have one?"
"Then we won't know unless one day you just stop." It could be today.
He doesn't look away but he can feel how deeply K is looking at him and he reaches a hand for him, almost without thinking.
He doesn't look away but he can feel how deeply K is looking at him and he reaches a hand for him, almost without thinking.
K hadn't been sure what he would do if Jesus reached for him earlier; now, though, it's simple. He catches up the other man's hand in his own, slides their fingers together.
He said we don't know. "There are guidelines. It won't be just one day - it's always on the manufacture date. And there are popular cycles - four years, six years, eight, twelve."
It doesn't disqualify the other years, but it helps.
He said we don't know. "There are guidelines. It won't be just one day - it's always on the manufacture date. And there are popular cycles - four years, six years, eight, twelve."
It doesn't disqualify the other years, but it helps.
He brings K's hand up to his lips, beard just brushing his knuckles. Thinking, thinking, then looking up at him again.
"So when would it be?"
"So when would it be?"
Maybe it would be easier if it could just be any day; like a real girl, Joi had said, and that would be true, wouldn't it? Things happen and humans die unexpectedly all the time.
But not replicants. "My manufacture date is December 25th," he answers, rubbing the tip of his thumb over Jesus's knuckles.
But not replicants. "My manufacture date is December 25th," he answers, rubbing the tip of his thumb over Jesus's knuckles.
"You didn't tell me that when you came to see me Christmas day," he says, hearing the deep hurt in his own voice, surprised and embarrassed by how cut he sounds.
"No, I didn't." He's not proud of it, but he won't deny that he knew better by then, either. The reasons all sound flimsy against the pain he can read as plainly as hear.
"I'm sorry. It didn't even occur to me before, and after - it was past. Nothing happened this year, so I thought... we have another year before it comes up again. We have time."
"I'm sorry. It didn't even occur to me before, and after - it was past. Nothing happened this year, so I thought... we have another year before it comes up again. We have time."
He pulls his hand away and moves away from the table, to sit on the stairs instead.
Nibbles bats at his hair and he cracks a smile, weak as it is.
"Okay." A year is more than he could hope for back home. So he draws himself back together. K didn't tell him. K could have gone home that night and died and he hadn't told Jesus but that's in the past now.
Quit and keep moving forward, as they say.
"Okay. We have a year. I'm glad we do."
Nibbles bats at his hair and he cracks a smile, weak as it is.
"Okay." A year is more than he could hope for back home. So he draws himself back together. K didn't tell him. K could have gone home that night and died and he hadn't told Jesus but that's in the past now.
Quit and keep moving forward, as they say.
"Okay. We have a year. I'm glad we do."
K doesn't try to hold onto him, but he does turn in his chair to be able to keep watching him, hands in his lap now. Mango is delighted that Jesus comes down to her level, too, and she's temporarily distracted from the cat enough to sidle up to Jesus's side.
"I am too," K offers, but it doesn't feel like enough. Normally he wouldn't try to convince anyone of anything, wouldn't keep talking, but this is Jesus. Maybe his logic doesn't make that much sense after all, but he has to try. "This was year seven for me, and I didn't really think anything would happen - and I don't know what would happen here anyway. Not in a place where we come back." That's not why though.
"Sara started avoiding me based on the idea that I might go missing someday. I was... afraid of what would happen if anyone here learned it as a real possibility." He still is, but he stays in his seat, offers none of the more desperate things he wants to say, how he wants to say them.
"I am too," K offers, but it doesn't feel like enough. Normally he wouldn't try to convince anyone of anything, wouldn't keep talking, but this is Jesus. Maybe his logic doesn't make that much sense after all, but he has to try. "This was year seven for me, and I didn't really think anything would happen - and I don't know what would happen here anyway. Not in a place where we come back." That's not why though.
"Sara started avoiding me based on the idea that I might go missing someday. I was... afraid of what would happen if anyone here learned it as a real possibility." He still is, but he stays in his seat, offers none of the more desperate things he wants to say, how he wants to say them.
"I wouldn't avoid you for that," he promises, soft, earnest. "I just hate the thought that you were alone for that. Knowing it might happen."
He stands again, this time carrying Mango, and sits on the sofa. Again he offers his hand to K.
He stands again, this time carrying Mango, and sits on the sofa. Again he offers his hand to K.
Mango, excited for attention, immediately licks at Jesus's face, chin, and neck; she's quick to burrow in against his side again, curling up next to his ribs.
K shakes his head as he stands. "That's how it's always been for me," he tries to assure him, settling down again beside him. "I didn't want anyone to have to... deal with that."
K shakes his head as he stands. "That's how it's always been for me," he tries to assure him, settling down again beside him. "I didn't want anyone to have to... deal with that."
"I'm good at dealing with death." He leans against K when he sits, the same way almost that Mango is leaning against him.
"It's a sign of love where I'm from, to be with someone as they die. To help make it easier for them."
"It's a sign of love where I'm from, to be with someone as they die. To help make it easier for them."
"I'm sorry," he says again, not a repetition exactly, but with more understanding. He lifts his arm out of the way, making room for Jesus to sit closer if he wants to after all.
"No one has cared the rest of my life, except Joi. It just didn't... I'm still learning the ways things are different here, where I'm the first replicant."
"No one has cared the rest of my life, except Joi. It just didn't... I'm still learning the ways things are different here, where I'm the first replicant."
"You have a right to handle it however you want to. If Christmas comes and you want to be alone, I understand. Just as long as you know that I won't push you away because you might die." He threads their fingers together.
Okay.
He isn't wired to just not answer at all, but nothing comes after that - including any sign of him - for quite a while. In fact, it's only an hour before the contract office will close before there's a knock on the door that will open to reveal K bundled up from eyes to shins in his duty coat, hands deep in his pockets.
He'll never be ready, but he promised to try; not Drake, but he doesn't have a good reason for anything less, so here he is. "Hello," he offers, muffled behind his high collar.
He isn't wired to just not answer at all, but nothing comes after that - including any sign of him - for quite a while. In fact, it's only an hour before the contract office will close before there's a knock on the door that will open to reveal K bundled up from eyes to shins in his duty coat, hands deep in his pockets.
He'll never be ready, but he promised to try; not Drake, but he doesn't have a good reason for anything less, so here he is. "Hello," he offers, muffled behind his high collar.
Just as he's said, Drake isn't going to chase K down and force him to sign. As much as everyone else wants him to be contracted, the choice has to be K's. Worst case, Drake figures... he'll see if Jesus wants to turn the puppy eyes on before or after K winds up in prison.
But he doesn't have to call Jesus. Late that afternoon, there's a knock on his door and a very bundled replicant in the hall. Drake takes in the sight of him curiously, wondering if how covered up he's chosen to be means something, then smiles at K and steps aside to let him in.
"Hey. Can I take your coat? Get you a drink?" Drake's just closing the door behind K when the approaching tap-taps of Sable coming to greet her friend reach the foyer and his dog appears, her ears perked and mouth open in a big canine smile. "A lapdog?" he jokes, motioning for Sable to sit before getting attention. "Good girl."
But he doesn't have to call Jesus. Late that afternoon, there's a knock on his door and a very bundled replicant in the hall. Drake takes in the sight of him curiously, wondering if how covered up he's chosen to be means something, then smiles at K and steps aside to let him in.
"Hey. Can I take your coat? Get you a drink?" Drake's just closing the door behind K when the approaching tap-taps of Sable coming to greet her friend reach the foyer and his dog appears, her ears perked and mouth open in a big canine smile. "A lapdog?" he jokes, motioning for Sable to sit before getting attention. "Good girl."
Part of it is that it's winter, and K is from Los Angeles; it's true that the sunny California weather of old is long, long gone, but the biome ventilation over his city still means that largely, the temperature stays around the same year round. He's not used to living somewhere with snow, and his associations with it are... not great, despite how beautiful it is.
Part of it, though, is comfort. Drake offers basic hospitality and K steps inside and unzips his coat readily enough, but - as usual - there's something in him that can't help but respond to Sable, smiling and his shoulders relaxing when he sees her.
"Water is good, thank you," he answers, waiting like he's learned to do until Sable has permission to be pet or to approach him, and then crouching to greet her with the traditional ear rubs. "Hello, Sable," he tells her, warm, and then his attention ticks back up to Drake. "Is this... okay? Not a bad time?"
Part of it, though, is comfort. Drake offers basic hospitality and K steps inside and unzips his coat readily enough, but - as usual - there's something in him that can't help but respond to Sable, smiling and his shoulders relaxing when he sees her.
"Water is good, thank you," he answers, waiting like he's learned to do until Sable has permission to be pet or to approach him, and then crouching to greet her with the traditional ear rubs. "Hello, Sable," he tells her, warm, and then his attention ticks back up to Drake. "Is this... okay? Not a bad time?"
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