Prologue
The old man powered off the news hologram. He had been listening to a news report of a teenage boy who had quelled the uprising of a small faction of Androids who wished to take control of the galaxy. The leader had called himself the Android King. The boy who had stopped the uprising and maintained the long-lasting peace in the galaxy had disappeared before being able to be identified and interviewed. The old man smiled at the story. Of course, he knew who the boy was and understood why he didn’t stick around very long.
“You’re proud of him, aren’t you?” The man’s wife entered the room behind him.
“Yes. He’s proven himself to be quite the hero,” the man responded.
“Jealous?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, you always wanted to be a hero.”
“Some would argue that I got to be.”
“You are. You’re a hero to millions.”
“I could have done better.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself, love.”
“I think I should like some tea, dear.”
“Of course.”
She stood from the couch, leaving him sitting in his wheelchair, looking at old photos. He coughed, holding his handkerchief in front of his mouth. Blood sprayed onto the handkerchief. He hadn’t told his wife the extent of his illness until recently. He didn’t want to worry her. He was forced to, though, when he knew this day was coming. He could feel it. His time was up. He wheeled his chair to a frame that sat on the mantle. A small piece of paper was suspended in the frame. A short note was scrawled on the paper in a child’s handwriting. The man smiled. This note from a child had helped him to remember himself in one of the darkest times of his life. He didn’t know where he’d be now without it. He only wished he could tell the boy what he had done for him with such a simple letter. He coughed again. His wife returned, carrying a tray for tea.
