Brass Bones and Crimson Tears
I was manufactured in a laboratory. If I could have birthdays I would be seven years and fourteen days old – but my master seems to have forgotten how long I’ve been around. I was the created and he was my creator, and he created me with a purpose. I shall remain his loyal servant until the end.
I stand in the laboratory where I was made. It is a large room, as far as most rooms go, and filled to the brim with all kinds of devices, myself included. Surrounding us there are a total of eight yellow monitors feeding us information regarding our current project, which is to be the grandest of all my master’s creations.
The blue screen that spanned the length of the front wall was the main screen where the master focused most of his attention. We were running preliminary testing at the moment, to ensure that the master’s creation would not suffer any malfunctions once it was ready. I never thought I had been programmed to feel worried or nervous, and yet I couldn’t seem to find the correct words to describe my current frame of mind. In my own way it was similar to a cautionary programme designed to reduce the effects of an anticipated unwanted event.
I had thought my master would be in higher spirits today, as it was today that his work would finally be complete. He stands there, staring at the main screen, expressionless. There is a small yellow flower resting in his metal fingers. It seems soft and gentle, however I fail to deduce its purpose here. The day was April 20th and I had discovered a pattern regarding this day and the master’s behaviour. Every year on this specific day he seemed to become distant, and I believe, quite sad. The only solace he seemed to find was in those strange little flowers… but why?
My master is different to I – he isn’t complete like I am. I was put together with old nuts and bolts and electrical wires, and therefore my existence is that of a machine. My master was, for the most part, a biological organism that developed from millions of years of evolution. He was made from muscles and bones, his veins were filled with a substance called blood, he had hormones that controlled his development and his mood, he had nerve tissue, and so many other anatomical assets.
I liked to think that part of me exists within him. Parts of his body are riddled with burn scars from an incident that occurred long ago. It is machines such as myself that keep him alive – like the one attached to the back of his head to help him think, or the one in his chest that keeps his heart beating, the column of metallic substance that supports his spine, and the intricate device that replaced his right forearm.
There are other parts to my master that I can't seem to understand – again they seemed to exist without any clear purpose. For instance, the patch of green ink that was implanted into the skin on his chest that formed some kind of symbol. Or the heart shaped locket that hung around his neck – he would stare at it at times and it would make him sad, especially on April 20th, but what did it mean?
After tapping away on his keyboard for a while, my master decides that it is time to see his latest and grandest creation come to life. He commands me to follow him to the elevator, and together we rise to the surface. I am programmed to comprehend sensations such as pressure and temperature, and when at last I can see the red sky above, I am unable to exaggerate how terribly hot it is outside – I am afraid that my circuits might fry.
The wasteland above is an awful place. Lacking of colour where the ground has been scorched, the world hardly resembles anything that I had read about in books. Hot winds howl over us, and beneath us the ground is littered with the bones of fallen humans. It is the same desolate image stretching for miles in every direction – grey and tragic.
My master had explained to me that our home was once a submarine – an ample metal creature, much greater than myself. It had been long since abandoned and now remained in the wasteland to rust, half buried in sand and ash. My master had obviously modified it over the years, adding more and more machines to dwell within and assist him in his task – the task that was now almost complete.
The choice of form for this grand device had at first seemed strange to me, as it resembled a great winged reptile. I assist my master in the final stages, and he allows me to stand and marvel as he actives it. I listen to the mechanical sounds of the great doors below opening, revealing the creature within.
Its black titanium scales are impenetrable, its eyes glare at it me like two glowing sapphires, and despite its size it moves with the grace of a cat. I watch it step onto the dust and swing its powerful tail back and forth while stretching out its wind. And then it howls at the red sky, and jets of crimson blue flame spurt from its mechanical jaws. My master’s creation is beautiful and deadly, and so very, very dangerous.
The master deactivates it and, with a light smile touching his worn lips, places his robotic hand on my shoulder, beckoning me to follow him back inside. He is tired, I can tell from the bags under his eyes, and the slant in his neck. As he shuffles off to rest I hear him murmur something. “At last. At last my ultimate weapon is complete. Soon, my love. Soon you will be avenged.”
What does it mean? The locket, the flowers, and now these silent promises… It is not my place to ask questions of my master, but alas, my curiosity gets the better of me. I am programmed to learn, after all, and how could one learn efficiently if one was not curious from time to time. In the midst of the night, I check the master’s computer, and discover something extraordinary.
Displayed there on the main screen is the flickering figure of a woman, standing in a field of shining yellow flowers, smiling. She is bright and beaming with life – arms outstretched as if she would take in the world, with wind flowing through her soft brown hair.
I flick to another image, and I find the same woman in the same field of flowers. She is holding onto my master, kissing his cheek, only he is different now. He is young and completely human – void of me, or any other machines. He is whole. He is smiling.
I then flick to the third and final image, and the woman is gone. I see my master, standing in the field of flowers, but he is no longer smiling. He is standing over a tall white stone, holding his hat to his chest. There is something inscribed in the stone however I can’t quite make it out – a name, perhaps. I wondered, where was the woman? Why wasn’t she with him? I could tell in an instant that without her, my master was terribly, almost painfully, alone
ns 172.69.7.39da2
and then Add to home screen.