The Creator

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
My best one

Submitted: January 15, 2014

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Submitted: January 15, 2014

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Clank, Click, Clank.”

His back is crooked and hunched with old age. His fingers forever stained with grease from his tinkerings. His hair, the color of dirty snow covers his head in measly patches. His slender, fingers are blemished with old jagged scars from a long history of metal bending. The thick wiry glasses balance on his withered nose.

“Clank, clank, click.”

Sparks flash across his face illuminating the shadowed, claustrophobic workshop. One lone light bulb flickers in the corner. His expert fingers find the nooks where gears need to go. They slide in easily. The last faceplate gets welded into place.

“Clank, Clank, click.”

The gears mold into each other. A slight tremble travels through it’s body. Metallic joints slide together, first only in his finger then spreading to his arm to his shoulder. Only tiny jerks of movement, but the creator lets go of his tension that held his body in place. He hangs his head in relief. The creator’s fingers slowly reach for the cold hand filled with liquid metal. The sound of the gears echo through the room.

“Clank, Click, Click.”

The dim light reflects off the fabricated face. Than like a babys first breathe the machine’s eyelids slide up, showing the golden gears spinning inside. It blinks again more slowly than the the first. As if it’s trying to remember how to do it. It’s fingers clench into a fist. It’s programing is kicking in. It slowly lifts it’s hand to it’s gear filled head. Slowly clenching and unclenching it’s fist. It’s over hand lifts to the other one. The two sets of fingers weave together as if lovers holding hands. It’s bare metal right foot slowly reaches for the ground. As if it was afraid to touch the ground.

“ Clank, Clank, Clank.”

The creator reaches for it’s shoulder to steady it. With it’s two solid feet on the ground it slides it’s feet forward as if it was a exotic dancer glideing across the floor. A gurgling sound leaps out of it’s metal throat. A sign that it’s trying to speak. The creator reaches for a latch on it’s head. The tiny door slides open with ease. It stands as still as the metal it was made out of; not a twitch of movement, it’s chest doesn’t expand from breathing, it’s eyes don’t blink, they just stare empty at the wall in front of it. It’s like it shut down. The creators slim fingers reconnect black and red wires to each other then slides the latch closed. The seams between the latch and metal seal together so it’s impossible for the human eye to detect. Than the creator steps back to admire his work. A human copied in metal; a copy with no flaws. As the creator steps back it’s eyelids slide across the empty holes. The small golden gears were almost as beautiful as a human iris. It looked like a soldier waiting for a command. It’s back perfectly straight, hands hanging by its side.

“Click, Click, Clank.”

It slowly turns it’s head towards the creator.

“Click, Clank, Clank.”

The creator waits patiently.

“Hello creator.”

It’s voice is as smooth as glass. Slides around the room echoing, filling a space that hasn’t heard words for thirty years. The creator stays quiet. A battle was going on as the creator tried to stay a emotionless. He reaches his hand to its ear to feel the only warm part of its body. A piece of skin infused with the metal. Only a inch long hard to see because of it’s ear.

“Hello son.”

 


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