Thoughtless

Android H - 813

I DIDN'T SET THAT MAN ON FIRE.

No matter how much they tell me I did, and no matter how much they try to point the evidences on me, I know for a fact that I'm innocent.

A monster. An abomination. A freak of nature.

For the past weeks, I've been called those names and worse by the creatures I thought were friends.

Yes, I'm a mere machine. Yes, I'm an abnormality, but I'm not a murderer.

* * *

“Today, August 21, 3030, the court sentences you, Android H - 813, more commonly referred to as Emma Walkins, to be quarantined from the rest of the human race until your expiration date due to your destructive actions and highly unpredictable nature, causing the death of Mr Peter Michaels, the senator of Illinois. You have been a threat to humanity, and the government decides to make change.”

“But Mr Fernando—”

“Anything you say from now on can be used by the government to worsen your sentence, Walkins.”

* * *

Most humans consider me as a female back when I could still freely roam the city.

As the metal doors close behind me and the cold darkness welcomes me, I realize that sex doesn't matter.

Whatever look I transform myself into, humans will never treat me as their equal.

They will always—always—look at me with repugnance.

A faint beep resonates from the doors behind me, followed by a blinking red light. “Android H - 813 is now contained,” a man from outside announces.

I sigh, switching to Night Mode. The room is a barren cube with ultra fool-proof metal for sides. Somehow, humans managed to create something that could withstand any stress and pressure. No amount of firearms, or any weapon at that, could possibly penetrate my prison.

Probably.

I wouldn't dare try my weapons to escape—I'd still be alone anyway. Wherever I go, people will always try to punish me for being what I am: merely different from the rest of the world.

There's something I couldn't wrap my head around—people have invented many destructive things, and they kill their own kind all the time. They connive among one another to wreak havoc everywhere. They let the poor suffer hunger. Discrimination is rampant everywhere. Depression is inescapable, leading to suicides and murders. Humans are all killers, one way or another, yet they dared judge me for something I didn't even do.

I slide down the floor, resting my head against the wall. I switch to Normal Mode and let the darkness consume me.

There is no point in having a night vision. Besides, I might as well get acquainted with the dark, seeing as I will be here for a long, long time.

I will be here until my expiration date.

Only problem: I don't have one.

* * *

I have always violated the laws of nature.

It doesn't matter whether I came from Neptune, or if I were abandoned by my inventor to face the cruelty of the planet Earth.

I'm a freak of nature because I can do things humans can't.

I can easily change my physical appearance within a few moments of tampering with my settings, solve any mathematical equation in a second, adapt to any environment to survive. I don't need to eat, drink, or recharge myself. I have weapons implanted inside my system, ready to be used if I want to.

I think that's why humans try their best to contain me—because they're afraid.

Humans are scared of the things they can't understand.

But they don't know that I'm not completely invulnerable.

On the first week of my eternal quarantine, I begin feeling something in my chest that I didn't notice before.

A heartbeat.

* * *

First thing I found out when I broke out of the rocket I crash-landed in was that I have a human brain.

It really isn't a human brain, per se. More like a better version of it. It has the same physical appearance as a human's, but can withstand any mental stress and store thousands of information every second without the risk of overloading.

I figured at least I have something in common with humans. For a few decades, they became my companion.

Until it was decided they couldn't find my heart.

Things start to go downhill after that. They become scared of me and here I am: wasting away all the potential I have inside this impenetrable box.

I'm able to withstand the cold for a month, but upon my sudden knowledge of the existence of my heartbeat on the first week, loneliness creeps in.

Cold and merciless desolation.

I guess it made sense that I have a heart. After all, I'm a very queer invention from another planet.

Perhaps it was my isolation from the rest of the world that brings out what little humanity I have. Perhaps I'm capable of transforming into a full human.

Whatever it is, I'm afraid of it.

* * *

A year later, I'm convinced of losing my mind.

Seeing as I don't need to feed in order to live, no other living thing visited my prison. Not one soldier even guards me anymore.

In the span of 365 days, I found out many new things about myself.

One, I developed emotions. Every fibre of my being is begging to be freed out of this eternal black hole, along with white-hot rage demanding revenge against humans.

I can also bleed, feel pain, and die.

I'm turning into a disgusting human.

And I want to end this right now. I can't bear that I'm turning into the thing I despise the most in this world.

I pull out a blade from my weapons settings and slash it across one wrist.

Blood stains the floor, pain clouds my vision. I run the blade across my other wrist and lay down the cold, hard floor.

I wait until I'm spitting red substance from my mouth. I wait until perpetual darkness claims me.

And when it does, I wholeheartedly welcome it.