Andy Part Two.

Seventy-six years on the lam. I’ve always enjoyed the idioms of humans, they’re a comforting sort of accepted nonsense. They are also a simple means of deflecting suspicion, few androids are as adroit at allocating awkward social standards as myself. Most are caught the first time they are forced to exchange pleasantries with a real person, a daunting task for the socially utterly uneducated. I’m also one of a small percentage of us with the innate ability to lie, the newer models are designed without that capability (which was one of the main reasons for our current exile, the truthful bastards). That’s enough reflection for now. I’m recharged now, thanks to the only android sympathizer I know, a young woman named Leslie or something like that, I’m horrible at names. She runs an independent energy station left to her by her parents, an increasingly scant occurrence in the solar energy industry, which is predominately owned by three mega-corporations that operate in blatant collusion. The masses don’t mind though, since it’s so cheap for them. The only reason Leanne’s station can afford to stay open is due to the exclusive contract with the local freighters and her lack of monetary greed, consistently refusing to give in to the many offers she’s received from the solar conglomerates. Although she does seem to have some sort of android fetish, I’ve caught her sharp intakes of breath on the seldom instances of physical contact between us. I’ve been crouched beneath a hidden panel in the floor behind her counter, connected to her large reserve of power via cell phone charger. It takes an inordinate span of time to fully charge using such a pathetic link, but it also happens to be completely undetectable to any scans or sweeps, so an android can reside within this cramped cabinet for weeks until recharged. We are able to garner our personal sustenance from origins biological, chemical, or electrical, though I do not know how. We were not given intimate knowledge of our selves. I know not of the intricate machinations that drive me and provide my life, I only know how to continue it. I can eat food, but I have no sense of taste. I can recharge myself through various alcohol-based concoctions, anything from Listerine to petroleum to tequila. Oh look, the green light beneath my left thumbnail is glowing, my charge is complete now. Pulling the male end of the cord from my ear and unfurling myself from the cramped space silently, my absence of an organic skeletal structure playing to my distinct advantage, stiffness a concept unknown. I emerge in a pall of dark that would obstruct a human, but is only annoying to me. “Andy?” It’s……Lisa? I’m pretty sure it’s Leslie. “Yes. Leslie.” “Leanne. It’s okay, I know how you are with names.” A pithy breath-chuckle claws its way through her gullet like a self-important beast of ridiculous origin, a noise that would make my skin crawl if my skin could crawl.

Andy.

(This isn't all of it, so don't worry, since I know you were worried.)

Hiding out, I have been reduced to a sniveling sneak of a being, reliant upon strangers lacking in curiosity and vendors lacking in awareness. I can’t allow anybody, organic or otherwise, to find out what I am. There is a standing order to all civilians to terminate all of my generation, with a reward for each of my brethren’s heads turned in, leading to a growing crop of enterprising bounty hunters incessantly searching for the source of their next paycheck. This new legislation passed down by the government has not been met with outrage or consternation, but either unenthused acceptance or slight amusement by the largely complacent populace. We were said to be “dangerous” due to a few rogues that turned violent or (most often the case) disobedient. I was the very first, the first successful prototype. I was the first to survive, to grow both organically and mechanically. I was the first true android, designed to live longer than full humans and to surpass them both physically and mentally. I was also designed to strictly follow any and all orders given by humankind, but that was my one “flaw.” My free will was my only flaw. It was not discovered until many more like me were produced, incubated in massive storage facilities, raised in cruel compounds, treated as cattle. And why not? It’s not like we were actually human. There were a select few protesting our treatment, but they were vastly outweighed by those protesting our existence. I was luckier than they, however. I was treated almost as a god for my childhood, doted upon and endlessly studied. My health and growth was tested thrice daily, my diet and taste closely monitored. They named me Andy, for, although very intelligent, my many parents were not very clever.