Okay, so this is Imitation. I'm not going to be inserting the lyrics between paragraphs because I don't feel that that works with this one...I don't know, I tried it and it didn't feel right. Hope this is okay, and if I make any mistakes please point them out.
Http : / / www. youtube. com / watch ? v=W9LW8hs9YLg
I do not own Vocaloids or this song, the only thing that I own is my interpretation of it.
Nuclear Holocaust. That was the word for it, and nobody thought it would ever happen. After a while, people stopped keeping track of the code to release the bombs, and they became artifacts in every country, to be reminders of a time when the world was driven by fear. They gathered dust and nobody thought about them again.
However, the bombs were released. All at once, and there were so many that had never been disarmed that the world fell to ruin, all life extinguished. There were no animals, plants, humans, the sky was blotted out by gray clouds of ash and debris. All that remained were some charred buildings, and one robot.
She was all that remained of the human race. It was a project that some scientists had been working on, an attempt at real Artificial Intelligence. She was the most realistic robot ever built, she didn't even have obvious joints. Her skin was made of a type of silicon gel, very thick. It felt more like rubber than skin, and it was colored stark white, but you couldn't see the mechanisms beneath it, so as long as you didn't touch her and feel how cold and inhumanly rubbery she was, you could look at her and think that she was.
"Master, what are we doing today?" she said, dashing up to meet the scientist that created her one day. "Oh, nothing much. I thought I would sit in a park and look at the lake for a while." he said, happy that he managed to make his creation able to be interested in things. "Okay." she said, her silicon mouth pulling up into a smile. It wasn't as if she could feel the warmth, or the tickle of the grass, or anything about just sitting and staring at a lake, but she could enjoy a day with the person, or at least one of the people, who had given her life.
She didn't feel pleasure or pain. She was built off of a real human personality, so she sometimes felt that perhaps, when a puppy was hit by a truck, and lay a splattered mess on the street, that she should feel a sharp pain in her chest, and that tears should come out of her eyes, but there was nothing. She did have tear ducts, she could cry. It was hard for her to make herself do so, though.
On the day of the catastrophe, she was charging in her facility. She had to charge herself up at least once a month, or she ran out of power and would never move again. She didn't even know that it had happened until it was a little while later. The power generator had barely made it out, she had to rebuild much of it out of the scraps that she found, and by the end she had to rig something up and turn a large cog to make sure that it could provide her power. She was a mess, there was oil all over her plastic hair that they had worked hard to make realistic, even if they messed up with the chemicals and made it blue. There was oil staining the fabric of her satin dress, the one that she had been given on the first anniversary of her "birth". It was a miracle that it hadn't burned away, though it was probably made to be a bit more durable. Her arms and legs were coated in the black substance. It looked almost like gloves, they stained deep into her fake skin, not that she could clean them, there was no more water anyway.
She couldn't move very far, the large ropes of wire attached to her back were all that kept her "alive". She cleaned up the remains that she could reach to pass the time. She found that her range for movement was a radius of fifty feet, so that circle that she could move around in was the area she tried to clean up. Beyond her circle, she could see the charred and crumbling remains of buildings. Sometimes there were winds, high winds that threatened to lift everything away. The wind always made everything a mess again, but it was new mess. Sometimes things that remained from the broke city. One time she found a doll. Another time it was a corpse. Not a human corpse, a robot corpse.
The robot had a single blinking red eye, and its head looked like a smooth tin can. The light continued to blink even though the robot had clearly been without a power source for years, perhaps they hadn't even been charged since before the disaster. She held it gently, it was the only sign of "life" that she had had. It wasn't a "smart" robot, it couldn't say anything and it was probably designed to push a wheelchair, probably for a very old woman, judging by the way its legs and arms, or what was left of them, were designed.
She had all of human knowledge in her memory. She knew the history of the world, she knew every war, every king, every government. She knew of medical textbooks and math. She had every doctrine of every religion. She also had every recorded philosophy. She had never truly bothered to think about her existence as a non-human, to look at the things people thought about human nature.
The disaster had probably occurred fifty years ago by this point. It could have occurred a hundred, for all she knew. All the clocks had been destroyed in the disaster, and her internal one had stopped when the last satellite crashed to the earth. Her first thought since the disaster, the first real one, she had been number than even before it had, was this: I am an Imitation. I exist to imitate humans.
Somehow, this unlocked something. Somehow, she now knew agony. She wished with all her heart that this had never happened, that the people would still be around, that she could disconnect from the charging device and not shut off. She wished that she had a heartbeat, that she could breathe and be not an imitation, that she could be real. It was a hopeless, fruitless, illogical wish. She couldn't bring them back, she couldn't turn back time, her stacking and cleaning couldn't rebuild the facility or the city, or the park, or refill the lake where she had sat and run her fingers through grass that she couldn't feel, but it was a wish that made her more human than she had ever been. And she cried with the tears that had always been there, and never used. She cried.
Even if this emotion is artificial
It is so precious in this world,
where all colors have been lost
The earth ceased to exist
But it does not stop producing the remains
Even if it is a silly conduct
I cannot give up piling the remains in a vain hope
Please allow me to at least connect once again
To you
