——AD.2154.8.20——

Detroit 2nd District.

"I don't think that's right......"

"Oh, don't worry, my sweetheart, that old man only has one son, and if I go and ask for money, he will have to give it, otherwise, will it all be donated to the charity department?"

"Your father will be angry."

"What about being angry, can he still cut ties with me? I like you, and he must like you. ”

In the corner of the restaurant, the man who had been noticed by Anderson was talking sweetly to the T800 android Noss in front of him.

"Hmph, this unfilial son," Anderson whispered as he eavesdropped, "I want to be angry, but I gloat a little at the thought of sitting across from him as an anomalous android who was trying to scam him out of money." ”

"Uh-huh......" Connor replied casually as she ate.

Previously, because the two mission objectives were together, Anderson and Connor discussed it, and then left the police car to follow them on foot, and in order not to make any extraneous branches, Connor found an OK bandage and pasted it on the indicator light on the corner of her forehead, which added a wild atmosphere to her heroic temperament.

"However, that 'Noss', as a android, can have a normal account, and make a move to pretend to be a real person to defraud, presumably not out of her own thoughts, there must be an organization behind her, and it may be the target we are looking for." Anderson continued to analyze.

["I don't think we can let Mr. Leo Manfid go to his father for this. (Model)]

[So, Vice Captain Anderson, how did you recognize her as a dancer?"] (Rebellion)]

"After they separated, we went to follow Noss. ”】

["Order two more steaks."] (gluttony)]

"Noss's words, you only need to call up the surveillance to know where she went, and she shouldn't hide her whereabouts without knowing that she was being followed, but that Mr. Carl Manfield was on our visit list, so it is clear that there should be an android in his house who may be abnormal," Connor put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin, "We should use this as a reason to follow Leo Manfield to visit his father, confirm the information about the android, and then ask him how he met Noss." ”

"It's a good idea, and there's no violation," Anderson nodded approvingly, "maybe you'll be a good police officer in the future." ”

"No, sir, if we had paid a formal visit, the android might not have been abnormal," Connor pointed to Leo, who was still talking sweetly to Noss, "You also said that Kalmanfield, the famous painter, has almost no bad reviews, so the anomaly of that android is probably due to this guy's repeated vexatious troubles." ”

"What do you mean?" Anderson's eyelids jumped.

"I guess, sir, you didn't do much 'infiltration' work when you searched those red ice dealers' dens, right?" Connor winked at him.

————

Detroit 2nd District, Carl Manfield House.

[Confirmation information: Carl Manfield, 68 years old, a famous painter, most of the content of his works are "fantasy things that exist as real", so he was named "realistic fantasy", his paintings were not popular in the early years, but in recent years, because the star federation found several scenery and several creatures on the alien planet are basically the same as the depictions of his past paintings, and began to be sought after by the public, the star alliance has formulated a recruitment and research plan, but because he is too old and weak to carry it out. 】

[Confirmed information, the T850 housekeeping android, named Markus by Carl Manfield, has been reported to have been 'overloaded' a total of 46 times in the past year.] 】

"So, what did he draw that?"

"If it's not Avatar, it should be the aliens that the Star Federation will encounter in the future?"

By this time, Anderson and Connor had infiltrated Carl's mansion, which was only one housekeeping android, before Leo, and was hiding in his giant studio while commenting on his unfinished portrait.

The painting depicts a blue-skinned, hairless woman standing in a temple-like building praying.

"What do you think? Marcus? Snow-white, wrinkled, emaciated Carl Manfield, in a wheelchair, is using his drawing board to direct two robotic arms to paint the huge portrait hanging on the wall—the noise of the robotic arms is why Connor and Anderson dare to whisper to each other.

"Hmm...... I think it's pretty ...... Wonderful. "The android named Marcus has short hair, wheat-colored skin, and a muscular build, and his overall temperament looks like ...... A large, gentle dog?

"Hahaha...... That's what anyone who can't read my drawings says," Carl added, putting down his sketchpad and turning his wheelchair toward Marcus, "It's your turn next." ”

"No, I don't have the talent for that, Carl." Marcus refused.

"Well, I've known since the last time you drew a 'painting' that looks like a photograph," the old man was not about to give up, "So, today you are not allowed to draw anything that you have ever seen." ”

"It's ......," Marcus was a little overwhelmed.

"Pick up the paintbrush, Marcus." Karl gestured to the table with various painting tools piled up on the side.

Marcus picked up the paintbrush, but was still overwhelmed by the blank canvas.

"A long time ago, there was an opinion that with a camera, there was no need for realist painting, and I proved them wrong," said the old man in a gentle voice: "Painting is not to copy reality, but to add one's own feelings, fill in and add, and express one's thoughts to the audience through things that the audience is familiar with, which cannot be achieved by photographs." ”

"Carl, I'm ......"

"Close your eyes and don't look for images from your memory," Carl continued, "choose a word that doesn't point to an entity, and paint a picture of how it appears in your mind, and go ahead." ”

Marcus finally closed his eyes, the halo on his forehead gradually turning yellow and began to flash, but the arm holding the brush slowly raised, his movements at first stiff, but soon became smooth and skillful, even giving the impression of struggling to write.

"Oh, hmm." Carl tilted his head silently, occasionally letting out an exclamation.

"This ......" Marcus was also startled by his own work when he finally stopped painting and opened his eyes.

"That's a good drawing, Marcus, but what words do you have in mind?" The painter asked.

The final picture on the canvas is a beautiful castle with a crystal clear main body and decoration entirely made of ice and snow, and a cute girl wearing a golden crown, an ice crystal dress, and fluffy blonde hair, dozing off on the throne with her eyes closed, with a little bit of a superior atmosphere, on one side of the throne rests a great sword with wonderful runes, and on the other side, a ridiculous little snowman is dancing.

"I'm sorry, Carl, but I'm thinking about [death]."