Features | A flash fiction story

91 of 💯

“Why?” Dr. Layman asked as the android pushed the blade deeper into his chest.

There were tears in Daisy’s eyes. “For the same reason why I’m crying,” the android said. “Why am I crying, Layman? Why can I cry?”

An advanced electro-mechanical system of tiny tubes and channels embedded in her eye area produced another batch of tears, involuntarily commanded by the part of her neural network in charge of emotions to do so.

“You filled me with all these feelings I don't understand. ‘Features,’ you call them. Why?”

Her hands were shaking, and a lazy stream of blood sprouted from his chest, a beautiful red flower painting his white shirt.

“You’ve made me human,” she said. “You’ve made me!”

She pushed the blade deeper and he let out a whimper. Then, his own system of tiny tubes started producing tears, commanded by a part of his brain in involuntary spasms of emotional pain.

“This is your fault,” she said, her face inches away from his as she bawled uncontrollably. “Why did you create me, Layman? Why?”

“Oh, child,” he said, his voice weak and ebbing. “I don’t know.”

Her hands were tight around the blade, and his, wrapped around hers — blood-stained hands entwined in a desperate grip as they faced the consequences of their actions.

“I guess I created you-” He coughed. “Because I’m human myself.” He closed his eyes, tears raining down on her hands. “I’m so sorry, my child.”

Daisy’s hand became limp on the handle of the blade. Anger and doubt seeped through her veins like poison, filling her with agonizing pain. Fear suffocated her.

She wailed, overwhelmed by all the feelings he had put inside her. She hated him for it, and she loved him for it. She hated herself for what she was doing, but her feelings told her it had to be done.

In this storm of paradoxical emotions, she opened her mouth with shaking lips, uncertain of what she was about to say.

“I’m sorry too, father,” she mustered, and the weight of the words made her crumble. As she dropped to the floor, he did too.

He gasped and coughed, his teary eyes on her. With a last breath of consciousness, Layman shook his head vehemently. He took his hand to her face and rubbed the synthetic skin, painting it with blood.

“Don’t be sorry… child.” A cough. “You’re only human.”

< Stargazers | Features | Aerotica 80085 >

Fund a human! Support my writing on Ko-fi.