Oblivion

Privet Drive: a place of normalcy, where being different was frowned upon. Here amongst the rows upon rows of perfectly trimmed hedges there was a deep, dark secret. A boy with unnatural powers had been hidden here in a totally simple and regular home; no different than any of the others.

Yet, even though the home's exterior presented an image of complete and total regularity this was in fact, nothing more than a lie.

This was the home of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. They had one son that was as normal as they. Yet, another boy lived with them. Harry Potter. An orphan.

At first glance you'd think that there was nothing different with him, that he was as regular as they came. However, this would be a grave mistake to believe. No, Harry Potter was not normal. He had a power that burned within him that few would realize… Including the lean boy himself. This power was regularly hidden, but in times of grave danger it would lash out defending him.

The Dursleys had been forced to accept this terrible fact, but that didn't mean that they made his life easy. No, it was still hell on earth. Inside of this terribly battered boy a hatred began to burn. However, it wasn't a hatred that one would have expected. No, this hatred burned towards those who created injustice. Those who used others for their own benefit.

For years he learned to find a way to strike against darkness that infested the hardened hearts of men. But, it wasn't until his ninth birthday did he find a way.

"BOY!" Vernon roared.

As his uncle yelled Harry shot to his feet, only to slam into the staircase above his head. For a second his eyes watered and he felt a few tears slide down his face unbidden from the pain. However, he managed to stumble out of the tiny closet he called a room.

"Yes uncle Vernon?" Harry asked once he had slipped into the living room where Vernon was watching his favorite sitcom.

His Uncle's feet were propped up, and he was munching on a bag of extra movie theatre butter popcorn. Knowing his obese uncle's habits it was likely to be far too salty for anyone not named Dudley or Vernon. Butter had splashed Vernon's chin and coated his fingers as he dipped his hand back into the bag time and again.

"Dudley's gotten interested in robots. There's a fifty pounds on the table. Go pick up as many books as it can buy. I'll want the receipt and money back." Vernon ordered without bothering to look at Harry.

"Yes sir." Harry replied dutifully.

He really didn't like obeying Vernon. He didn't respect him, he didn't like him, and he certainly held no love for him. Number Four Privet Drive was not his home. He didn't know what home was but he'd find out one day.

Nevertheless, the scrawny boy scurried over to the round table residing in the center of the kitchen. It had to be positioned there so that Vernon and Dudley could actually sit together. They were far too wide otherwise.

Harry peered at the table before spotting the note. He then went around it and with a deft grasp fitting of a lean boy scooped the note up and slipped it into his pocket. Then, he walked out of the kitchen, past Vernon once again, and out the door.

The nearest bookstore was nearly five miles away. Naturally he hadn't been told he could take the bus so he'd have to go by foot. As the sun was already setting it'd be a challenge getting home without at least some kind of problem.

Still, he walked silently not wanting to draw attention to himself. Here, that was akin to a death sentence. If he drew attention to himself Dudley and his gang would try to beat him. While they'd be unlikely to kill him, they'd inflict a great deal of pain before walking off and he didn't want anything like that to happen.

"Why me…?" He asked as he stared at the uncaring concrete beneath his feet.

It didn't answer. It never did. Neither did the sky or the trees. He'd grown used to being lonely. Still, there were times he wished he could have spoken to someone… To feel like they cared about him…

He shuddered and wrapped his tiny arms around his thin body. Those pitiful thoughts weren't suited for someone that had such fervor which burned in their hearts. England was growing cold though, and simple passion wouldn't keep the chill at bay during the late autumn months. Too bad he didn't have a coat.

Eventually though he managed to make his way to the bookstore where he was greeted by the shopkeeper. After explaining his situation the clerk frowned thoughtfully.

"Robotics? They're rather rudimentary right now. Is your cousin more interested in the inner workings of real robots or the robots in cartoons and things?" She asked as she flicked through a white binder marked 'inventory' on the front in bold black lettering.

"Er… Probably the second." Harry confessed.

"In that case I'd suggest only a few of the technical books and then the rest on fictional robots."

Fictional robots? What were they?

"Can I take a look…?" Harry asked meekly.

The shopkeeper gave Harry a strange glance but smiled nevertheless.

"Of course. I'll go get them and then you can look through them." She offered gently.

He nodded eagerly at the prospect. While the woman dug through her inventory Harry walked about the shop, taking in the scents and sights. As one might have expected from a bookstore there were books everywhere. Four large bins sat in the center of the room full of them, and more rested on shelves outside of those bins and on the walls were massive bookshelves housing thousands more books. The air had a scent of… Something almost ancient; sacred.

As he shuffled through the books the shopkeeper sat a pile of them down on the desk. As calmly as he could Harry made his way to them. Immediately, Harry picked up the first book and was consumed by fascination.

Robots of the Future

Dr. Gabriel Issacguard

Within the simple titled book a preface captured his attention.

Humanity has long dreamed of robots. Some people see them as the perfect tools, other see them as excellent for any and all jobs that are too dangerous for people. Others imagine them as the ultimate soldiers. Then, there are a few that see them as Mankind's ultimate friend. What would a world with advanced AI bring about?

Well, in the worst case scenario the AI would decide to eliminate anything lesser than themselves. (Also known as us.) In the more commonly held beliefs Robots become simply nothing more than tools for humanity until the end of time itself. But, every once in a while, a human comes about proposing that they may be our greatest friend, our greatest companion.

At this time AI is still in it's infancy. But… What would happen if someone came up with a truly accurate representation of intelligence? An AI that could think, feel, and make decisions. Naturally, people would be fearful at first. But, for the one who could befriend a robot… This likely would lead to a special companionship unlike any other.

For some reason, Harry felt his imagination spark, and he turned the page eagerly, trying to find out more.

Robots have great potential; just as we humans do. The only thing now is… To tap into that limitless future.

Take hold of your futures and one day… Perhaps, robots that think and feel won't be such a pipedream.

Harry licked his lips thoughtfully as he finished reading the author's letter. His heart pounded. No one wanted to be his friend…. He'd just have to create one himself…

At this point this story has started to take shape, and it is admittedly a bit.. Different compared to some of the other fics I've built. Basically this is a prologue to a story I haven't fully fleshed out but I'm enjoying quite a fair amount.