The Epic of Kite and Go
Has anyone ever wondered what kind of people produced Heero Yuy?
(Written to Radiohead's Kid A.)
...............
It all began with the clink of a champagne glass.
None had ever lived to see their first birthday. They usually died off due to some random malfunction, as equally inexplicable and frustrating to their creators as the SIDS that plagued mothers in the twentieth century. Some random malfunction, no illness, no disease, they just stopped living all of the sudden. All of the years of research and work put into creating them... and then they would just... stop.
Just stop.
Because, they would have debated had they not been so busy rejoicing, could one really say something without a soul could "die"?
Generous pats on the back, laughter, champagne spilling over the edges of their crystal containers as the holders swung them carelessly in the air... toast after toast. The hard crinkled lines under the creators' eyes folded unnaturally into smiles and happiness and these moments of cold skin bent in happiness would be scarce from then on.
It was all a swirl of popping corks and congratulations. They had done it. They had succeeded. This project was to be a success...
... until ...
... under the skin-bleachedly-clean surfaces, the eery and sickly pale green fluorescent lights, the quiet reflection of the sharp steel instruments on cold white tables to no end, the stale and empty air, a voice so precious and innocent rang out it made their skin crawl.
"Mommee."