V.24601 did not know how he came to be, or where he came from, but he remembered meeting his mould, his Jean.
Jean had fled from him. Jean had feared him. It was such a ridiculous notion now, that if he were human, the memory would have been tattered and faded like an old photograph. But Jean had taken him in anyway, a metal monster with a face like his own, and shared his home and heart. It had taken months for V.24601 to realise what was happening, what he was doing.
He had seen Jean's daughter and her husband, their sweet gazes and gentle kisses, and felt an odd ache that made him examine the main fuel tank in his torso for failure. But V.24601 had found no physical failure, only tender thoughts of Jean and visions of sweet evenings together stored away in a part of his memory more heavily guarded than a bank vault.
Robots are not supposed to fraternize with humans in such ways. Robots are not supposed to feel. Robots are not supposed to love. Any robots that feel such emotions are to report for examination and reprogramming.
But he could no longer stop himself - it was as if Jean had been programmed into his core and given him a thousand upgrades he didn't understand. The metallic man supposed he didn't mind not understanding, not when a feeling so similar to what must be the human equivalent of love burned through his wires.
But as much as V.24601 recognised that love, the more he acknowledged that he wasn't human, and never will be.