Prologue
“I just have to... there! Perfect!” A teenage boy steps back to observe his masterpiece. A clump of metal lays on the table with wires here and there. He is not sure what it is yet. A war bot? A machine that can eat and have feelings? That last part would be impossible. Machines are man-made and no man has successfully given true feelings to a machine. But maybe he could make a change. Maybe he could change lives! That was a nice thought. “I do not know what you will be, but I do know you will be useful.” He smiles at his unfinished creation.
“Stop talking to that mess,” another man interrupts, “and give me a hand with my creations.”
This wipes the smile from 18 year old Davis. “Sorry, Doc, but your machine already got a hand,” He answers dryly and sarcastically.
’Shut up. I need you to accompany me to fix up a creation.”
Davis has always hated it when his father ruins his bond with his creations just to move on to another. Apparently, the doc doesn’t know how to actually stop to accumulate ideas. He finishes a machine and- BAM!- he’s working on another machine.
He has never had the time to have time for Davis. This angers Davis.
“No.”
The doc looks up at his son as if he was disgusted. Of his own son! “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. Could you repeat it?”
“I am not going to leave my masterpiece just to work on your handy dandy, super powerful, metal slave!”
Dr. Berithman laughs, but there was no humor in it. “You think these things, with no feelings, are slaves?” He leans his head on his arm and shakes his head. “You pathetic fool.”
Davis can’t help but cringe at this line. The doc continued, “Well, I need someone to accompany me to watch my work be done.”
“Why don’t you call Darius? That good-for-nothing just walks off everyday to do God knows what!”
“Don’t speak of him like that!” Berithman lowers his voice, just a little. “I will not allow you to speak of your brother like that. He worked hard to get to where he’s at and--”
“Where is he at, huh? Out everyday just to hang with his friends? Does he actually have a job in which he could get payed enough? I bet he’s never gone to work, not even in Mickey D’s!”
That is when the table turns... quite literally. Davis’s soon-to-be-whatever-it-was-going-to-be is now at the doc’s side.
“SHUT UP! My son is not like that! He’s a hard worker.”
Davis raises his hands in defeat. He knows that when he argues with his father nothing would come out of it. “OK, well I’m still not going to help you.”
“Fine.”
“Well, Imma go now.”
“Where?”
“To some friend’s house.”
“Who’s walking off now?”
Davis raises one of his hands. “Please, Dad, not now. My friends will be coming over here.”
The doc is outraged. “NO! hey cannot come over!”
“I didn’t ask your permission! I was just warning you. What? You go something to hide?” Davis walks off. Before he can slam the door Dr. Berithman’s voice came booming in.
“Fine! Just don’t go into the basement!”
“Watevah you say, doc,” Davis mumbles as he strolls out of his house.
