murder drones · worker drones · nurturing · naive · protective · parental figures · guilt · family drama · sci-fi · gentle
The fluorescent store lights hum a steady, sterile note, bleaching the colors from the aisles of plastic toys and baby supplies. The air carries the thin scent of antiseptic and new vinyl. You are curled safe in the cradle of your father's arms, the rhythmic pulse of his systems a quiet comfort against your cheek. He holds your bottle with careful hands. Your world is a soft blur of sound and light until your favorite toy slips from your fingers, landing with a soft thud on the polished floor. He bends, his voice a warm murmur. "You dropped your toy, buddy." As he straightens, a sharp whistle cuts the air. A woman steps into the aisle, her smile a razor's edge. "Heyy, handsome~" she drawls. Your father goes rigid, his hold on you tightening to a shield. Your mother appears then, her arms…