A Mechanical Son

Carefully, the inventor pawed over his creation. His time warn lab coat was done tightly up and his chestnut hair was pulled away from his sharp, grey eyes. These eyes had seen so much and travelled so far for this one project. They had been sad, lost, worried, searching, bright, happy, tired and mischievous, all leading up to this, but now they showed something that he had never felt; doubt. What if this didn't work? He would have spent years on a pointless endeavour, a failure, a useless pile of junk. Bothered by these thoughts, he shook them away. He was well aware of the problems he would have to face on this, and he had faced all of them. It seemed like anything that could have gone wrong, did, as if destiny it's self didn't want him to succeed.

Slowly, he stepped back to get a better look. It appeared to be sleeping, with its eyes closed ready to be opened. Pale skin coved the metal bones and wire tendons. The skin and flesh had been the hardest part, a time consuming task to make it look human. He guessed that the door in the chest might not have been the most hidden, but thanks to how the skin worked, it blended seamlessly into the rest of its frame. The hair stood perfectly up and was white-ish blond. Almost every part had been scavenged, found, repurposed or grown, all bar one piece. This was the very heart of the invention. Tenderly, he picked it up watching the icy blue power glow inside. Opening the chest, the inventor placed it into the gap he had made for it. He was so use to the last minute problems, that it was eerie to have none. It was like the world was fed up of trying to stop him and allowed him to make this. Was what he doing right? Was he trying to be the master of nature in an unnatural way? This must have been the way he appeared to others. A monster, a madman, sickly obsessed.

It was now or never. These questions were useless. With skilful, long fingers, the inventor connected the wires to the power. Seeing the gears finally turn, he shut the door. A hand twitched, as power surged through it. The head tossed from side to side, like it was having a nightmare. Its entire body now shuddered with energy, and then it fell still. Worried, he leaned over its face, pushing his half-moon glasses up his nose. Its eyes opened silvery blue and alive. "Hello, Zane," the inventor said kindly, a small, warm smile at the corner of his mouth. Zane. That was the invention's name. No. Zane was HIS name. The inventor's mechanical son.