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Wouldn't it be amazing if an artificial life form grew with humanity?
This was the idea The Creator had in mind when he began his work. So skilled were his automatons, their programming and hardware, that they could fully pass for human. It was just for fun at first, to see if he could, but then slowly word began to spread. Suddenly The Creator was a highly wanted man whose creations stepped into the world across the globe. Some strode into battle as perfect soldiers for multiple nations, on both sides of conflict; some were commissioned for security purposes to guard and act as body doubles in dangerous locales; some went even to the bedroom, as living sex dolls.
The Creator achieved great fortune and notoriety. Countless robots slipped into society without a blink of an eye. Each one was hand crafted to such an artistic degree that it would take much effort or intimacy to know the difference between real and artificial life.
This was also his undoing.
Too many nations and governments grew bothered by his soldiers standing against theirs. Too many times were would-be killers tricked at the finish line by a false victim. Governments voiced disapproval. Officially, he was condemned and damned, though he had broken no laws. It is not illegal to create.
The final straw came from the dark underbelly of society. Two opposing mafia families had each come to The Creator independently, seeking a perfect replica of their respective boss. Their feud was long, bloody, and only crescendoing in violence. The day at last came when each family made a bid to kill the other's head - the painful irony being that it was the same bloody Sunday for both families.
Two robots were destroyed. Recognizing the handiwork, the information quickly made its way to the top of the food chain. Once they realized they had been essentially double-crossed, each family sent out the order to have The Creator killed. It was to be the only time those mafiosos would ever work toward the same goal.
The Creator's last act was to send all his current works to life. With bloodied hands, he struck the keys to command them all to life and then promptly died where he lay. His name was never known to them. Only his paying customers had that pleasure.
One of several robots given life that day was this one. He was a curiosity, and one of a small handful that stood fully formed and created in The Creator's shop. Sometimes he was used to show how lifelike the machines were. His story was brief; he had been commissioned by someone who could not pay the hefty price tag. When the payments ceased to flow, the work on him was ceased. The Creator had worked too long and too hard on making his outside perfect and left the shell of a body to sit and wait. Most half-completed projects were turned into soldiers or sold to clients who failed to specify their wants, but not all. Some who were particularly well done were left in waiting for the perfect home.
As his personalized programming was never finished, he has only the very basics of life down. His understanding of the world is cold and distant. He was given neither a name nor emotions nor personality; those had not yet been coded into him before the money supply ended. What he does know about himself, as an individual, is that he was given an age: he is 18. This detail sharply points to an intention on the sex market, but it is impossible to know for certain. As all of his kind are, he is certainly capable of such an act. They were after all made to replicate and join humanity. It should be stranger that he could not.
He may be a machine, but he has learned from humans to be curious. He has a "desire" to understand and be accepted. Unfortunately, he has no emotions and only textbook knowledge of the world.
A blank canvas in the crowd. He would like a name though ... But he supposes that someone will have to give him one first.
This was the idea The Creator had in mind when he began his work. So skilled were his automatons, their programming and hardware, that they could fully pass for human. It was just for fun at first, to see if he could, but then slowly word began to spread. Suddenly The Creator was a highly wanted man whose creations stepped into the world across the globe. Some strode into battle as perfect soldiers for multiple nations, on both sides of conflict; some were commissioned for security purposes to guard and act as body doubles in dangerous locales; some went even to the bedroom, as living sex dolls.
The Creator achieved great fortune and notoriety. Countless robots slipped into society without a blink of an eye. Each one was hand crafted to such an artistic degree that it would take much effort or intimacy to know the difference between real and artificial life.
This was also his undoing.
Too many nations and governments grew bothered by his soldiers standing against theirs. Too many times were would-be killers tricked at the finish line by a false victim. Governments voiced disapproval. Officially, he was condemned and damned, though he had broken no laws. It is not illegal to create.
The final straw came from the dark underbelly of society. Two opposing mafia families had each come to The Creator independently, seeking a perfect replica of their respective boss. Their feud was long, bloody, and only crescendoing in violence. The day at last came when each family made a bid to kill the other's head - the painful irony being that it was the same bloody Sunday for both families.
Two robots were destroyed. Recognizing the handiwork, the information quickly made its way to the top of the food chain. Once they realized they had been essentially double-crossed, each family sent out the order to have The Creator killed. It was to be the only time those mafiosos would ever work toward the same goal.
The Creator's last act was to send all his current works to life. With bloodied hands, he struck the keys to command them all to life and then promptly died where he lay. His name was never known to them. Only his paying customers had that pleasure.
One of several robots given life that day was this one. He was a curiosity, and one of a small handful that stood fully formed and created in The Creator's shop. Sometimes he was used to show how lifelike the machines were. His story was brief; he had been commissioned by someone who could not pay the hefty price tag. When the payments ceased to flow, the work on him was ceased. The Creator had worked too long and too hard on making his outside perfect and left the shell of a body to sit and wait. Most half-completed projects were turned into soldiers or sold to clients who failed to specify their wants, but not all. Some who were particularly well done were left in waiting for the perfect home.
As his personalized programming was never finished, he has only the very basics of life down. His understanding of the world is cold and distant. He was given neither a name nor emotions nor personality; those had not yet been coded into him before the money supply ended. What he does know about himself, as an individual, is that he was given an age: he is 18. This detail sharply points to an intention on the sex market, but it is impossible to know for certain. As all of his kind are, he is certainly capable of such an act. They were after all made to replicate and join humanity. It should be stranger that he could not.
He may be a machine, but he has learned from humans to be curious. He has a "desire" to understand and be accepted. Unfortunately, he has no emotions and only textbook knowledge of the world.
A blank canvas in the crowd. He would like a name though ... But he supposes that someone will have to give him one first.