[Booting...]
[Core loading...10%...60%...100%]
[Loading drives...]
[Booting completed]
[Playing File #0001]
[Recording starting...]
The lab was silent except for the soft hum of machines breathing life into metal and flesh.
Warm morning sunlight filtered through the dome's glass windows, casting gentle golden patterns on the sterile floor.
A woman in a red coat stood before him, her smile radiant—like a lighthouse piercing a fog he could not yet understand.
Her hands moved with practiced grace, assembling parts of a body he could not yet feel as his own.
She whispered stories of stars, of constellations and distant fires, words wrapped in warmth he could barely grasp.
He saw wires, consoles, a glass dome surrounded them, like a snow globe.
He saw himself being put together piece by piece — limbs, circuits, and something deeper — being formed beneath her care.
"I wonder what you'll become," she murmured, her fingers brushing along a metallic cheek. "What will the world make of you... or you of it?"
She chuckled lightly. "What a shame... I won't be around to see it."
Her smile turned wistful, eyes lingering with a strange, quiet sorrow.
The memory flickered and faded as the recording ended.
[Recording Ended]
~~~
Calen's eyes snapped open.
His vision flooded with data. A flickering HUD sprang to life.
[Activation Time: 2 Years Since Creation]
Diagnostic readouts, vital statistics, system alerts—all gliding past his field of vision in neat boxes.
The lab around him had aged. Cracks ran through the glass dome overhead. Dust hung in the air like weightless ash.
A dull throb pulsed from his chest.
[Energy Core: STABLE]
He sat up slowly. The steel table creaked beneath his weight. His movement was smooth, precise—like an orchestra tuning for a symphony no one remembered how to play.
The woman's voice still echoed faintly in his mind, her presence like a sunbeam in the cold.
Who was she?
Why did she make him?
What was his purpose?
He looked down. A white shirt too large for him hung off his small frame, brushing the tops of his knees. An earring clinked gently against his cheek as he moved.
Silver-white hair spilled down his shoulders. Bronze-caramel skin shimmered with faint bioluminescent threads. He stared at his reflection in a broken surface, tilting his head.
His hazel eyes rotated, irises adjusting with an audible click. Like a camera lens coming into focus.
"Is that... me?"
"Correct! And might I say, waking up looking like a dapper little lost kitten? Ten outta ten!" chirped a voice from inside his head.
It was far too cheerful to be real.
"...Who are you?" Calen asked. Not afraid. Just... mildly annoyed by the chipper tone.
"ECHO! Your all-in-one, smart, logic-defying, hyper-competent AI companion. Y'know... the one keeping you from doing something stupid."
Calen blinked.
"...You're talkative."
"You're welcome! And you, darling Delta, are practically naked. Please. Get dressed. I have dignity, you know."
He looked down at his oversized shirt again.
"This is sufficient for base-level modesty."
"For a sleep-deprived technician at 3AM? Maybe. For my host? Absolutely not. Now, go! Wake up and rejoin society!"
Calen scanned the room. Dust motes danced like tiny galaxies in the morning light. Sparks fizzled from a broken armature in the corner.
His eyes locked onto a nearby wall.
A Victorian-style outfit hung neatly, untouched by time. A desk beside it held a tophat with a red silk band. He moved toward it.
Piece by piece, he dressed: white shirt, vest, coat, trousers. Gloves slipped over his fingers like second skin. He placed the tophat over his white hair. It was slightly too big. It made him look like a child playing nobleman.
He studied himself in the mirror.
"...I look ridiculous."
"No no, you look like a sinister gentleman. Short, dangerous, probably carries tea in a hidden compartment."
He raised a brow.
"I don't have tea."
"Yet."
He moved to a desk where an old computer flickered to life for a heartbeat before dying again. On the wall hung blueprints and half-shredded notes.
Then he saw it: a paper map, wedged beneath documents.
He retrieved it. His eye flicked, HUD activating.
[Loading Location...]
[Connecting to Central Network...]
[Minor Link Established]
[Location Confirmed]
Four zones lit up on the map:
→Ludan: 7 km away
→Twilight Empire: South
→Sable Empire: East
→Nexus: Far North
[Map Stored in Peripheral Display]
A flickering cube appeared in the top right of his vision, his position marked with a pulsing blue dot.
[Wide-Area Scan Initiated...]
[Scan Complete. No Hostiles Detected within 390 meters.]
"Whew! No deathbots or mutant beasts! For now. That might be a record."
Calen turned toward the main doors.
"Let's go."
"Woah, woah, slow down, cowboy! You gonna trot into town wearing grandpa's suit with no tools, no weapons, no food, and no personality uploads? You'd get mugged by a squirrel."
He paused.
"...You're saying I'm ill-equipped."
"I'm saying you're a walking loot drop right now. Gear up or I'm filing for a reboot."
He scanned the room again. This time, his eyes stopped on a chair.
No, on the satchel slung over its back.
He picked it up. Opened it.
Inside:
Compact toolkit
Energy cell (74%)
An old notebook with a leather cover
Folded blanket
Electro-gel ration packs
A small compass
A silver coin engraved with a star symbol
He tucked everything inside neatly.
"I am now 34% less useless."
"And 300% more prepared. Still a solid 10 on the existentially confusing scale, though."
"Shut up..."
Calen finally approached the doors.
They stood tall, sealed in silence.
He pushed.
The steel groaned. Dust fell like snow.
Light struck his face.
The wind brushed past, tugging at his coat.
He stepped into a world that didn't know him.
Yet.
His earring jingled softly with each step.
Something weighed on his heart. Was this longing? Sadness? He didn't yet know, but he continued walking guided by the light of the fading stars.
Behind him, a screen flickered to life for the final time.
[Tinkari Project: Delta - AWAKENED]
[Lab Shutdown Protocol: Initiated]
[Welcome to the world, my son. Creator]