For some reason, you ended up on the floor again. It’s gone too far.

You get up, barely leaning your hand on the wooden covering, looking at the label of the glass from which you just drank a handful of aspirin, and can't read a word. Everything is swimming in front of eyes. Bad, stuffy and disgusting tremor beats all over body, you're almost blindly groping around the floor in the hope of finding a gun. And finding.

Only incoherent wheezing and coughing comes out of throat. The weapon falls out of your shaking hands at first, but you snort bitterly and pick it up again. You're tired. Words, memories, screams, laughter, clicks, humming, rumbling, barking — everything that turns in head.

Again, there are many reasons why you will fall unconscious on the floor with your arms outstretched, many reasons why tomorrow you will come to work at the police station in the afternoon. Or not, who knows. You're too determined, and the pills are raging in your head.

It’s time to act.

The doorbell rings. A blow on the door. And, it seems, with foot. "Open up, please," Echoes hollowly in head. Another blow, and the old door splinters across the room. On the threshold, who would have thought, Connor, brushing off his clothes and straightening his tie. He hurriedly enters the hallway, stops, looks at you for a long time and raises his head, feigning uncertainty.

Even through the veil, you can see how something has changed. Connor is looking for the right one out of thousands of algorithms, but for some reason he does not find it, apparently there is no such thing in the database.

Is Connor going to come up with something on his own?

The android's cool hand rests on your wrist. "If you need to reduce the voltage so high," Connor forcefully pulls his hand with a loaded pistol away from your head and transfers it to his forehead, so that the weapon trembles slightly, "You can shoot me. I value your life much higher than mine."