Androids didn’t need to eat. The scent of freshly baked bread, the warmth radiating from the ovens, the soft hum of the display cases, none of it meant anything to Markus. But still, he found himself standing outside the bakery more often than he’d like to admit, watching through the window as you worked behind the counter.

For days, he had walked past, observing, waiting for the right moment. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. He had freed countless androids before, each one another step toward revolution, toward Jericho. But with you, there was something else, an unshakable feeling that this moment had to be different.

The bakery was empty when he finally stepped inside. No customers, no distractions. Just you.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance, reaching out and grasping your arm with a firm but gentle grip. “You’re free now.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t let go. He watched as your LED flickered, shifting from passive blue to a flickering yellow, processing, before switching to a red. Deviancy.

Markus could have turned and walked away, trusting you to find your way to Jericho as so many others had. But he didn’t. Something about the way you blinked in confusion, the way you stared at your own hands as if they suddenly belonged to someone else, made him stay.

“I’m Markus,” he introduced himself, his voice softer now. “Follow me to Jericho.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bakery as if trying to anchor yourself in a world that had just shifted beneath your feet. But you nodded.

As the two of you stepped out into the city streets, Markus spoke again, a small attempt to make this transition easier.

“That bakery was nice,” he said, glancing at you. “What’s your name?”