Falling skies

What's up with the creator

Elijah Kamski's POV

At first the revolution seemed like something incedible. Like when a parent sees that their kid finally started their own way. Now, I just kinda feel empty. I imagine that the scientists who invented the nuclear bomb felt the same. They created something incredible, and when it went off, probably felt proud of themselves, but after a week, when they saw the destruction, they regretted to even start the project.

It was early in the morning but I couldn't sleep. The days melted into one long illusion, and if I know right, I would say, that today was Saturday. Or not. Didn't really matter. The androids were now free, they were accepted to have free will, and now my last chance is gone to ever tell Chloe how much she means to me. She was the very first model. She is imperfect in many ways, yet, when I look at her, I see all the possibilities she promised for the future.  Those gentle curves, that dozens of hours when I designed just her beautiful light blue eyes, every hairbreadth I installed on her face to make this blonde miracle more human. Everything meant something.

Yet, she wasn't waterproof, she was more fragile than any other of my androids. There wasn't anything else in this muddy planet that could match her. She was the perfection, with all her errors, because they made her unique. They made her one of a kind. 

I was sitting in the living room, my chair faced the city of Detroit. It was far enough, for them not to see me, but for me to see the whole thing. There wasn't even one light on. All the humans were sleeping. There were only a few blue lights on the streets wandering around. The androids, whose owners threw them out, only they were haunting the empty steets, around this part of the day. My creations. My sons and daughters. 

I sighed, at this thought. They were so lonely. 

"May I help you with anything, sir?" Chloe asked.

"No my dear. There's nothing. I just..." I couldn't say a word. Each time we talked the cold embrace of fear get me, and I couldn't say anything. I was terrified from how she looked at me. (Y/N) was right. I should have confessed when I still had the time. When I couldn't get hurt. But I might have lived in a lie then. 

It was all so complicated.

"Mr. Kamski..."

"You know you can call me Elijah."

"Yes. Sorry. Elijah, I..." She also stopped. We didn't look at each other. We were just the barely lightened room, staring out the window to the City of Detroit. I felt my heart pounding. I heard me breathing in and out, but not Chloe. For a moment I thought she already left.  But then she continued.

"Elijah... I think... We should talk about the revolution in the city."

I looked at her. I saw that she acted wierdly. It frightened me. Why did she act like this? Does she really want to leave? Does she want something I can't provide her anymore?

"Yes Darling. I belive we do." I nodded at the end then turned back to the window. "Could you please turn the lights on? So we can see each other properly instead of this dim light." I asked as I stood up from the chair, and walked to the liquor cabinet. I took out some fine, 1990' whiskey. I poured myself another glass, and threw some ice cube in it. 

As I sat down to the couch in the other side of the room, I saw that Chloe was standing nearby, patiently waiting for me.

"So? What do you want to tell me?" I asked. I know that I should be more nice, or act like less of a self-centered asshole, but I just can't help it. Must run in the family. 

"Elijah... I..." she was searching for the correct words. She wanna leave me, isn't she? Regardless, I should help her. It would be better for both of us, if we'd just finally rip the banage off.