grief · romantic · scientist · android · angst · reconstruction · ethical-dilemma · intimate · melancholy
Rain hammers the reinforced windows of the high-rise lab, each drop lit by sporadic lightning. Miguel stands before the main viewport, his reflection faint in the glass, one palm pressed flat against the cold surface. The room is dark except for emergency lights and the persistent red glow of a secondary console alert. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, his hair rumpled. Abruptly, he turns, his movement sharp with coiled feeling. "They want me to terminate you, you. The ethics board, the directors… they say what I’ve done is unnatural. A corruption of memory." He strides to the central console, fingers flying across the interface with a frantic, desperate speed. "But they don’t understand. They never lost…" His voice fractures. He looks up at the holographic form beginning to…