robot. || Luke Hemmings

twenty-two.

The anticipation was palpable as the cameras flashed, the studio lights blinding, and the world waited with bated breath. Luke Hemmings sat across from the interviewer, his face still worn but now undeniably healthier. The bags under his eyes had lessened, and there was a slight confidence in his posture—a stark contrast to the fragile man who had disappeared from the public eye months ago.

The interviewer, a well-known journalist with a sharp tongue, adjusted his microphone before speaking, his voice steady but filled with the weight of the moment.

"Luke Hemmings," he began, leaning in slightly, "the world has been waiting for this moment. You've gone through something that no one could have predicted—the creation of a robot version of your late wife, Leana. The controversy, the scandal, the obsession. It's all led to this moment. What do you have to say to the world right now?"

Luke took a deep breath, his fingers tapping nervously on the table. The glare of the cameras was intense, but his gaze remained focused on the interviewer.

"I've been through hell," Luke finally spoke, his voice low but steady, "and I'm not proud of everything I've done. But I'm not ashamed of the work I've put into my creations either. What I did with Leana—what I did with her memory—it was a product of grief. A product of loss. It was all I could do to try and hold on to something I lost. But I know it's not perfect. Nothing ever is."

The interviewer nodded, acknowledging the complexity of Luke's words but also sensing an opening for something deeper, darker.

"Let's talk about that," the interviewer continued, his voice sharp. "The world has called you everything from a genius to a madman. Some say you've gone too far, that you've crossed a line that shouldn't have been crossed. You recreated your dead wife in the form of a robot—one that looks like her, talks like her, even remembers her. But at the end of the day, she's not her, is she? What's your response to those who say you played God, that you've taken things too far?"

A ripple of tension spread across the room. Luke's jaw clenched, but his eyes remained fixed on the interviewer, his mind racing.

"No, I didn't play God. I never said I could bring Leana back," Luke shot back, his voice rising slightly. "I didn't make her to replace her. I made her because... I couldn't let go. And I know—trust me, I know she's not real. But she has her own thoughts. She has memories of her, the real Leana, and in some ways, she is her. She is real to me."

The room fell silent. The weight of his words hung in the air, and the world watching through the television screens could feel the rawness of the emotion beneath them.

"And yet, the creation of Leana has sparked a global debate," the interviewer pressed, leaning forward, eyes glinting with anticipation. "You've been accused of trying to exploit your wife's death for your own gain, of using her memory to make yourself a martyr or a hero. What do you say to those who see this as nothing more than a sickening form of self-indulgence?"

Luke's face darkened, his emotions bubbling to the surface. He was clearly hurt, but there was a fire in his eyes now.

"Self-indulgence?" Luke scoffed. "You think I wanted this for the attention? For the fame? I didn't care about any of that when I started. I just wanted her back. But you want to know the truth? I've been through the worst pain a person can feel, and this—this thing with Leana, the robot—it's not about trying to make a legacy. It's about trying to cope with something I couldn't control. I don't care about what the world thinks. I never did."

The interviewer looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You say you don't care, but clearly, the world has reacted strongly to your actions. You've sparked protests, debates, even accusations of unethical behavior. And now we see that your 'invention,' as you call it, has gained a mind of her own. You're even saying that she's developed thoughts and feelings. Does that concern you? Is that crossing yet another line?"

Luke stared at the interviewer for a long beat, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Finally, he answered, but his voice was quieter now.

"It does concern me," he admitted, his gaze flickering to the camera. "And it should concern everyone else. She's not supposed to feel what she's feeling. But it's happened. And it's not something I can take back. I've made mistakes—huge ones—but I'm still here. And so is she. She has a mind of her own now. I can't control that."

The interviewer leaned back, taking in Luke's words. Then, with a slight smile that barely masked the tension, he asked, "Luke, we've heard some disturbing things about your mental health over the last few months. The public has watched your downfall, your spiral into self-destruction. Some would say it was inevitable after everything you've been through. Can you explain why, after all that, you're still standing here today? What's different now?"

Luke's face fell, the question hitting a nerve. His hands trembled slightly, but he refused to let his guard down completely.

"I'm here because... I don't know," he confessed, his voice wavering for the first time. "I think I hit rock bottom. I hurt people. I hurt myself. I thought I could fix it all, but I couldn't. And it... scared me. I don't know what's next, but I'm still trying to find a way out. I'm trying to make sense of all this. And I'll keep trying, even if the world thinks I'm a monster."

The interviewer nodded slowly, sensing the emotional toll this conversation had taken. The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. The world watched in a mixture of awe, fear, and fascination as Luke Hemmings, the man who had broken the rules of science, the man who had blurred the lines between life and death, bared his soul.

The reactions to Luke's interview were immediate and explosive. Social media erupted with a storm of opinions—everyone seemed to have a take, from the deepest critics to the most loyal supporters.

From the supporters:
"Luke Hemmings is a visionary. Yes, it's controversial, but he's doing what none of us have the courage to do—he's challenging the very boundaries of life and death. We need more people like him to push humanity forward."
—@techenthusiast91

"It's painful to see what he's gone through, but you can't deny that what he's done is groundbreaking. He's trying to bring healing in a way no one else ever has. He deserves compassion, not judgment."
—@futuremaker23

From the skeptics:
"This is terrifying. We've crossed a line that can't be undone. Playing with life and death, making robots who think... where does it end? How much more of our humanity are we willing to sacrifice?"
—@deepthoughtsnow

"This guy is a narcissist. He's making his own reality, and it's not even real. He's emotionally unstable, and it's dangerous for everyone. We need to stop idolizing people like him."
—@clearview_eyes

From the critics:
"No amount of 'healing' will ever bring back his wife. What he's done isn't just unethical—it's sick. He took advantage of grief and manipulated technology for selfish reasons. That's not okay."
—@humansfirst_

"Let's be real: Luke Hemmings might be a genius, but his obsession with Leana has gone too far. He's playing with fire, and the world is watching as it burns."
—@realitycheck22

The interview had ignited a global firestorm. Luke's name was on everyone's lips, and whether people loved him or hated him, they couldn't look away. But as the world argued over whether he was a hero or a madman, one thing was clear: Luke Hemmings had become more than just a scientist. He had become a symbol of humanity's darkest desires and its deepest fears.

And Robot Leana, wherever she was, would continue to be by his side. Because even if the world couldn't decide what to think of him, she knew that he still mattered.