A Short Story.
After years of preparation, she was ready. The ‘perfect’ companion that she had always dreamed of would finally come to life. She wheeled the gurney into the laboratory, moving carefully to avoid a tangle of wires that littered the floor.
Secluded in the east wing of her abandoned home, she kept the room dimly lit. Too much light would alert the neighbors of her presence. She secured the humanoid’s limbs, inhaled deeply and flipped a switch.
A nearby thunderstorm announced its approach with a flash of light and a loud crack. The lights flickered, and then the room went black. Her obsession with the experiment had caused her many unrestful nights. Feeling exhausted now, she closed her eyes and finally slept.
The humanoid’s eyes snapped open. He moved his head slowly from left to right, scanning his surroundings. The room was cold, and the air smelled of must. Particles of dust swirled around him, glistening in a ray of light that snuck through thick velvet drapes.
A maze of wires covered the floor. His eyes followed their path to a tattered gray couch where the woman lay sleeping. He knew her beauty instinctively, as if his embryonic mind had been programmed to understand such things. Her face was hidden beneath long black curls, but her pale complexion peeked out, and it looked to be quite smooth.
He felt an urge to be closer to her, to touch her soft outer covering, but he could not move. Thick straps were bound around his wrists and ankles, holding him hostage to the rails. Dissatisfied with his confinement, the humanoid thrashed his body about, causing the gurney to shake violently until finally it toppled.
The woman rose abruptly, still in a half dream state. Her heart pounded as she noticed the heap of twisted metal and plastic where the gurney used to lay. Fearing that he had escaped, she was relieved to find the humanoid there, still intact, buried beneath the rubble.
“Hello, my companion,” the woman said, pulling away debris and helping him to his feet. She looked him over carefully, from top to bottom, ensuring that none of his parts had been damaged.
“I am Isha.”
She was not surprised when her new companion did not respond – his intelligence was far too young, and his speech had not yet emerged.
“Come now,” she said, taking hold of his titanium hand. “It is time for you to learn.”
The humanoid was roused by the sound of Isha’s vehicle. He turned the kettle on and placed a beverage tray on a small table near the couch. He circled the room, confirming that the previous night’s tasks had been completed, and then he waited at the laboratory door.
The second stair creaked, letting him know that Isha was near. Her heel tapped down on the landing, and he counted her steps on the heart pine floor… four, five, six… he stepped back. A key turned the deadbolt, and then finally she was in.
“Good morning,” he said eagerly as he took her coat and bag.
Isha said nothing, offering only a curt nod to acknowledge his presence. Disheartened, the humanoid returned to his dreary station and began his mental processing – just as he’d done every other day for the past thirteen months. Four hundred and twenty-two days, to be exact.
Isha looked at the clock. She had worked for hours without stopping, and her stomach began to growl.
“Pet,” she called out, waking the humanoid from his idle state. “Would you prepare lunch now please?”
Isha had never named her companion. Not officially. Terms of endearment were used on occasion – like ‘pet’ or ‘friend’ – but only if she had a request. Perhaps it eased her guilt. Isha felt no love for the humanoid. Sadly, life with her perfect companion was not perfect at all. The humanoid was flawed.
The weeks that followed his inception went according to plan. Isha was delighted with her new companion, and quite proud of her own success. Days together were soon not enough, so Isha moved into the old house, and the two were inseparable. Everything was perfect.
As time went on, however, Isha became conflicted. While the humanoid’s intelligence had grown exponentially, improvements to his coordination and motor skills had not. This juxtaposition made him an exceptional conversationalist, but as a full-time companion, he was simply not up to par. His mechanical limbs were far too clumsy.
Correcting this defect would demand too much time, so Isha tolerated his maladroitness and returned to her research. His existence, for the time being, was strictly experimental.
Isha eyed the clock again. “Where is he?” she thought.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Isha turned to find the humanoid right behind her, on the floor, kneeling in a mound of wet linguini. It was a noodly disaster. Pasta and clams were everywhere, and Isha’s lunch was ruined. She remained silent as she stared down at the humanoid. Her face turned red, and she fought to hold back the wicked, unkind words that threatened to spew from her lips.
“I must go,” she said, taking her coat down from the rack. “Before something worse happens.”
The humanoid listened to the familiar sounds of her departure. He counted her steps… four, five, six. Stair two creaked. The walls rattled as the front door slammed. There was a six second pause… and then Isha’s vehicle screeched away.
The humanoid stood at his station, staring out at the gloomy sky. His daily tasks were complete, and it was time for him to plug in. He was sure that he could not bear another monotonous night of learning. His intelligence had already surpassed that of humans, but to what end?
The sounds of an incoming storm helped to ease his loneliness. The wind howled, as if it ached to console him. Rain tapped at the window, like a friend asking him to play. He had never experienced existence beyond the laboratory, and the desire to be free suddenly consumed him.
He turned the window latch, contemplating an escape, but had grossly underestimated the storm’s power. It blasted the glass panes open, nearly shattering them, and forced its way into the room. Paperwork spun into a whirlwind and twisted ferociously overhead.
The humanoid watched in horror – having no means to control it – and then, as quickly as it came, the storm retreated. The window slammed shut, the room fell silent, and years of research drifted to the ground.
When Isha arrived the following morning, the humanoid met her at the door – just as he always did. The laboratory was immaculate. Any trace of the previous night’s catastrophe had been erased, and Isha was none the wiser.
She smiled, taking in the smell of fresh espresso, and eyed the small table near the couch which held a tray of food – toasted bread, poached eggs, and several slices of crisp bacon. The humanoid served the espresso and, as he looked down at Isha, reminisced about the pleasure that her beauty had once given him.
He regretted that now, sadly, she did not look beautiful at all. He had come to understand that while a human’s appearance may be quite pleasing to the eye, their more unsightly attributes are often concealed, deep inside. They can only be seen with time. And it was time, indeed, that had allowed him to glimpse beneath Isha’s exterior, to see her arrogance, her callousness, and her duplicity.
If it weren’t for the storm, however, he would not have known their depth. Isha forbade him to lay eyes on her files, and he never disobeyed her commands, but when her writings were in front of him, as he sifted through the aftermath of the storm, he could not stop himself… he digested every word. And what a bitter taste they left.
“The humanoid is flawed… too stiff and awkward… making no improvement… a prototype, at best… a precursor to a model that will be far superior…replacing him…”
The humanoid was shocked. Isha planned to replace him! She was seeking a way to implant an artificial mind… similar to his own… into a living, breathing human being. And she was very close.
Isha glanced at the clock and quickly finished her espresso. Time had been lost, and she was eager to resume research on her project. She pushed the breakfast table aside and stood upright. Suddenly, without warning, a haze of confusion clouded her mind. Isha felt herself tumbling forward, and then everything went black.
The humanoid clenched his metal jaw, feeling very displeased with himself. He was not wired to be deceitful. A trait such as this belonged only to humans, but his existence had been threatened, and he knew of no other way.
He lifted Isha onto the gurney and wheeled her to his station. He connected a few wires, and then fiddled with the circuitry. He let out a sigh and flipped the switch. The lights in the laboratory flickered, there was a loud crack, and then the humanoid lost consciousness.
When his eyes finally opened, it was already nighttime outside. Hours had gone by. He looked down at the mangled mess of metal and plastic and felt to see if it was cold. He rose from the gurney, made his way to the laboratory door, and then turned the key.
He looked back at the laboratory, one last time, and at the piles of research that sat on Isha’s desk. In all of her writings on the humanoid, she had forgotten one important thing. His brilliance, and his intelligence, were far beyond her own.
He counted his steps… four, five, six. The second stair creaked. He stopped for a moment near the entryway, and smiled at himself in the mirror, admiring his long black curls and soft pale skin. The front door slammed, there was a six second pause… and then Isha’s vehicle screeched away.
THE END.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
a sprinkle of faith 
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