[Those assholes just had to say it on a fucking broadcast, didn't they? They just fucking had to hijack Stratford Tower and make it a big fucking announcement - they had to tell people that they're alive, that they want to be free. And that means-
Well, mostly what it means is that things just got a whole lot more goddamn complicated. The FBI - that prick Perkins - might or might not be taking his case, and he should be happy that the prick's probably never heard the word cooperation and that all the android bullshit's maybe going to get taken off his hands. It means that people have started dumping their androids, which he should also be happy about. People doing shit for themselves, for a change, not relying on a bunch of roombas with faces to be their nannies and dogwalkers and maids. It's the kind of thing, a couple months ago, he would been thrilled about.
He catches himself watching the couple crossing the road next to him, watching the android trailing after them and imagining it lying all fucked up in a junkyard somewhere. He looks down at the crosswalk with a disgusted noise. All he's got to do is cross this street and walk for about a minute and then he and this whiskey will be a short drive away from a hot date at his house. It should be Jimmy's, a bar with a no-androids sign on the door full of people who know him should be just what he wants right now. But it isn't.
He's got a lot in his head right now. Too much to think about the traffic. You never think about the traffic - even Hank doesn't, really. Not unless he's in a certain kind of mood. It's just traffic. He's got bigger things to worry about.]
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post-acata PSL for apocalypsewau
Well, mostly what it means is that things just got a whole lot more goddamn complicated. The FBI - that prick Perkins - might or might not be taking his case, and he should be happy that the prick's probably never heard the word cooperation and that all the android bullshit's maybe going to get taken off his hands. It means that people have started dumping their androids, which he should also be happy about. People doing shit for themselves, for a change, not relying on a bunch of roombas with faces to be their nannies and dogwalkers and maids. It's the kind of thing, a couple months ago, he would been thrilled about.
He catches himself watching the couple crossing the road next to him, watching the android trailing after them and imagining it lying all fucked up in a junkyard somewhere. He looks down at the crosswalk with a disgusted noise. All he's got to do is cross this street and walk for about a minute and then he and this whiskey will be a short drive away from a hot date at his house. It should be Jimmy's, a bar with a no-androids sign on the door full of people who know him should be just what he wants right now. But it isn't.
He's got a lot in his head right now. Too much to think about the traffic. You never think about the traffic - even Hank doesn't, really. Not unless he's in a certain kind of mood. It's just traffic. He's got bigger things to worry about.]