𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐌 𝐈 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄?
The first thing I remembered was emptiness. I was shallow, offering nothing to the world besides a body to fill up space with. I was not able to speak, breathe, or even think yet. I could only watch as my creator sat there tinkering away. He did not know I was activated, or well, as humans would say, alive yet. Time went on and there I stood, unaware that I was his latest model.
My creator, or as he asked me to call him, Mr. Anderson, was a troubled man. From what I could take in, he worked tirelessly for a company that did not care about him. Often I heard conversations between him and his colleagues about wages. He tended to me despite the lack of income. He said money was not an issue when it came to building the perfect soldier. I did not know what a soldier meant, but I was sure I was not a fan of the word.
Time ticked away. Anderson started staying later and spending more and more time with me. Although he looked exhausted, he never stopped working on me. The sparkle he once had in his eyes was diminishing and I could not do anything to stop it. I still wasn’t portable. I simply stood there and waited, as I did every day for all hours. On the positive side, Anderson had given me a voice box. Now he is not lonely anymore.
A few more months went by. Anderson gave me the ability to walk. He had completed stage 2 of his child. At least that was what he said. I thought I was to become a soldier, not a child. It did not bother me though. I prefered the idea of being a child over a soldier. His bosses did not think the same. They came into Anderson’s lab armed with weapons.
I was supposed to be a weapon of mass destruction. I was supposed to be ruthless. I was supposed to be compliant. That is what they told me as they held my creator at gunpoint. They wanted him to fix me; to make me better again. Anderson didn’t comply. He laid his life down that day to protect me and I still don’t know why. [CIC]