Humanoid

Neriah

I cannot feel pain, I cannot feel anything. The needle poking through my skin right now, I cannot feel that. I have not been programmed to feel. I only know what he wants me to know, which is nothing about him, nor me. Nym hastily moves throughout the lab, searching. “What are you looking for?” I ask, knowing he will not answer, he cannot answer, for he cannot speak, but his talent speaks far beyond words. The bed where I lay feels hard, like metal, which it is. The machines beside me beep with intensity, and the lights, so bright it can be mistaken for the sun. “Nym?” I ask again, waiting for him to show me a sign that shows he is listening. Nym is my inventor, my father. He programmed me during the plague of 56, a plague that killed more than half the people of Iriesas. That is when the making of robots became popular when people felt so desperate to save their loved ones that they turned them into pieces of cold metal. I am one of them, I do not know if Nym truly cares about me, but he is all I got.

Nym slowly comes back, balancing a chip between a pair of tweezers. I have been through this before, upgrades. As I have said, I do not feel anything, but the noises do enough to make me restless. The buzzing begins and I cringe, annoyed Nym quickly hushes me. I can feel the pressure of the needle going through my head before the chip is entered. My head goes through new files of information, downloading everything into my database. “Classism,” I begin with words that don’t seem like my own, “’prejudice against or in favour of people belonging to a particular social class.’” Nym slowly nods, seeming proud of his work. “Nym why download definitions, I’m already hooked up to the internet?” I ask sitting up, he does not answer. I continue to go through new information, as more knowledge fills my head. Curious, I ask, “Why have we divided Nym? Iriesas... why is it split up?” Again, he does not answer. “Are robots looked down upon?” To this, he nods sadly. “But why? We are a new way at life...” Nym looks towards the window, at the bright lights shining ways past the borders, before shaking his head and walking away.

“We are known as slaves to the upper-class,” I say answering my own questions, “Iriesas is split up into 3 divisions.” This I already knew. The highest division and the most respected is the Royal Division. Only the very rich stay up there, like the King and Queen. Next is the Public Division, where the working class lives, they’re not as respected as the royals, but depending on your occupation you are still respected more than others. Lastly, the Droid Division, where I live. I cannot leave unless I’m working for someone else in the other divisions. People from other divisions may visit here, but mostly it is only inventors, as we are what they need. Metal.

I hear the television turn on in the other room, Nym must be watching it. I can hear him flip through channels, as I decide to keep myself busy with work. I walk towards the table at the back of the room and pick up an old dusty box I know that Nym has been trying to open for ages. He found it off a beat-up robot, who had this tiny box clasped in its hand. Whenever he is stressed he would try to open it, but he truly gave up on it years ago. I take a screwdriver and start picking off some rust. Nym seemed to have chosen a channel, and trumpets and pianos begin to play from the television. Clapping and cheers uproared, as a voice begins to say, “Welcome back to the royal palace! Today, we are honoured to talk to Prince Hadrian of Iriesas.” Curious, I walk towards the sound. Prince Hadrian, to me and the rest of the Droid Division, is a nuisance, someone who is unfit to rule. Like his father, he’s a narcissist, arrogant asshole, who doesn’t give a rats crap about anyone other than the people of the Royal Divison. Although no one can disagree that he is very handsome. Nym sneers when Hadrian’s face shows up on TV. I sit down beside him on the couch, keeping my eyes on the screen. Hadrian smiles, his teeth a pearly white, “It is a pleasure to be here.” Sitting beside him is a beautiful woman. Her hair is a bright platinum blonde, and her eyes, a bold green. Their hands are clasped tightly around each others. “Congratulations on the engagement!” The TV host exclaims. Just then I noticed a shiny diamond ring on the woman’s finger, “Thank you, Irene.” She says, without a smile. Seeing them together, you could see the striking contrast. He smiled brightly, while she looked vacant. “Does this mean he is eligible for the crown?” I ask worriedly, Nym nods. I snicker, “Iriesas, is fucked.”