The tiny, ragged doll lies limply in the leathery palm of it's creator. The light from the lamp beams down upon it like a heavenly ray and the creator silently wishes it's awakening. Seconds pass and the creator's prayers are answered when the optics of the tiny doll flicker suddenly.
It squints upwards, eyes slanted, and it glares at the light. The creator would've liked to note the odd change in optic shape in exposure to light, but he's too breath taken by the awakening of his creation. It's a part of him. A part of his soul.
His fingers are gently closed around the doll, and as it blinks vacantly, it begins to struggle against the creator's grip. He writhes around, pulling at the oversized human fingers with it's blunt claws, grunting as it does so. The creator chuckles lightly, despite feeling weak. He lowers his hand and gently sets the doll onto the table. The creature rolls onto it's side and steps down from his hand, and the creator spies the number he himself had inked onto his back.
1
One steps out of the light's ray as he inspects the workshop with caution, before looking up at the human, his creator, who is gazing down at him with satisfaction.
"Hello, One."
One is somewhat taken aback by the greeting as he stares back up at the human. He opens his mouth and he looks somewhat unsure of what to say. The creator wonders just how self-aware his creation is.
"Hello."
His voice crackles slightly, after all it's the first time he's used it. The odd expression on his face signals that he is unfamiliar with his own voice. He makes a noise similar to somebody clearing their throat, as his hands instinctively clasp behind his back.
He looks up at the creator with a fierce eye.
"Do you know why I created you?" The creator asks, softly, for he is tired. One's optics dart towards the window, but outside lies pure darkness. One shakes his head.
"I fear the world may be ending." He says gravely, but One's face remains unchanged. "I have created a machine unlike anything I had before, but it was taken from me. It's being manipulated for the purpose of war. You know what war is, don't you?"
"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot."
The harsh response takes the creator by surprise, but he smiles. This tiny little creature he's created with his very own soul, almost like a child, has what seems like it's very own personality. It's been alive for five minutes and it's already clear what kind of person it is.
"Don't misunderstand, I wasn't trying to patronise you. After all, you're the very first of my creations that..." He trails off, glancing at the numerous books on alchemy that are stacked under his desk. "...I was unsure of just how much you know of this world."
"I know enough, I'm sure."
There's a glint in the creator's eye and he takes it as a challenge. "I don't doubt that at all, but of the things you must know, it's about the situation that this world is in."
"The world is at war."
"Yes, but do you know why?"
One takes a seat on a nearby book as he contemplates the question. "War happens for multiple reasons but if I'd had to make an educated guess..."
He pauses for quite a while, looking down at the table with his, what the creator has now realised is permanent, slanted eyes.
"I'd say the government of this country is making use of your machine against other countries. I'm unaware of just how they're managing that but I assume this country is under a dictatorship that becoming more powerful and harder to overthrow."
The creator stares wide-eyed at the doll; he adjusts his glasses to inspect his creation closer. A smile graces his lips. Was his knowledge passed down to this little creature?
"How did you know that?"
"There's a poster promoting the revolt of the war pinned to the back of your door."
The creator reels back and, true to One's word, there is, in fact, a poster on the back of his door. He begins to laugh, though One remains stony silent.
"You're absolutely right! My machine was stolen by the Chancellor of this country for the purpose of war."
"And that's why you created me? I fail to see what help I would be." He says lowly and a cynical smile forms on his lips. The creator silently marvels in how expressive his little creation is, even if his attitude did leave something to be desired.
"My machine is being used to build more machines to fight against other countries. You see, the BRAIN is an intelligent creature. It learns things; it craves knowledge but I fear it's been warped beyond repair."
"I understand it's a dangerous situation but I still fail to see what prompted my creation. The war will end, whether it takes five, ten or fifty years."
"Yes, if it were fought with humans. The BRAIN is smart. It's easy for them to create a machine hellbent on destroying humanity. That's the worst-case scenario, you see? We cannot allow that to happen, no matter what."
"And your very first thought was to create a six-inch doll? Ingenious, truly." One snarks and the creator smiles wistfully.
"You hold a greater power than you might imagine, but the true power lies in the rest."
"There are more?"
"Not yet, but soon there will be. You are but the first of your kind and you must understand if anything happens to us, the world lies in your hands."
One's expression has changed to something like worry, before it twists into annoyance. "Why? You're incapable of fixing your own mistakes. Creating machines in the likeness of humans is what brought you to this mess and you think doing the exact same thing will fix it?" He snaps, but the creator is passive.
"The BRAIN was never created in the likeness of humans." He wonders if this is really true.
One opens his mouth to argue and he looks utterly exasperated, but he shuts his mouth and sighs. A thin veil of silence drifts over the room.
"One, you hold a very important role in your group, or at least, you will do." The creator knows that One will be the only eligible leader. He knows the rest of his creations will serve a purpose. One is stubborn and will be invested in his own ways. He has pride in himself and that can be both a blessing and a curse.
Whether or not One will make a good leader is another story.
"Tonight, I plan to release you into the world. It's up to you to find the rest as they are created. You are the oldest; you must protect them. They are your family."
One's eyes are now oddly large and the creator can recognise this as fear, something he'd never wish to see in his creations.
"I know it's scary." He says softly, as if consoling a child, "But it's necessary."
One's optics snap back into their normal slanted position as he snaps, "I'll have you know I'm not scared. I just don't appreciate having to solve the mistakes you've left behind."
The creator sighs, because really, he has made many mistakes, but he does not regret making the BRAIN. He knows deep down how much destruction it will cause and he knows it will have to be eliminated for the good of humanity, but he will always be proud of it. It will always be one of his greatest creations.
A small smile appears on his face as he imagines telling that to the little doll before him. He imagines the offence on One's face and it's rather humorous.
"One..." He begins, as the sadness that he will have to let his creation go sets in, "...I will be releasing you in a short while. I know it may not be the most ideal situation for you, but you know there is no other choice."
One looks down, solemn and reluctant. He knows this is his fate, whether he likes it or not. He looks back up, expression grave, yet accepting. He nods silently, and silently pads towards the edge of the table in the direction of the door. The creator helps him into his hand and takes him to the door, all the while, he's silently savouring the time he's holding the doll in his palm. It's like the affection between a parent and a child; this creature is a part of him.
He sets him down on the step, and opens the door a crack, enough for One to slip out. The creator crouches down and watches him leave.
"Goodbye, One."
He receives no response.