Dream: Become Human

Chapter One: Say goodmorning to Cyberlife

George was a smart guy.

He did smart things, lots of them, and even had a checklist for doing those smart things every morning. He worked with machines, and had a masters degree in engineering.

Always top of his class, the role model, star student.

People told him he was smart all the time and George really tried his best to make sure that he didn't let that get to his head.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't.

His ego solidified when he was accepted to work under Cyberlife, and work he did. Designs, basic construction, demo's.. There was no area George didn't have handled, and if he didn't, he'd just teach it to himself as he went.

Everything was wonderfully simple, understandable, and controllable. He was pretty sure that he could assemble an android in his sleep if he was dedicated enough.

Sleep... he didn't do that a lot.

It was the price of being so smart, he supposed. George ran on his special mix of redbull and coffee on nights he had to work late.

Those nights were becoming frequenter and frequenter these days, good thing he didn't have a family to worry about him.

His higher ups told him they needed him to do more, since a lot of his fellow workers had been taking holidays as of late, but he knew they had left. All those protests must have really gotten to them.

The people of Detroit just couldn't stop shouting about androids taking their jobs. That just wasn't true, there were still plenty of jobs, they just had to be smart enough to get them.

That's what they get for dropping out of school to be a musician, they should have known it was coming.

George wouldn't be replaced.

Probably.

No, he was too smart for that. Sure, the AI knew things, but could they trust AI to make more AI? That was an unknown variable, a risk.

He wasn't really sure why though.

George wasn't that fond of those protesters. They got what they deserved and decide to be noisy about it. He thought his coworkers would think the same way

Or maybe it was the other group of protesters, the smaller, quieter group.

They didn't get to George.

Not really.

He made androids, he designed the machines, if anyone would know if they were alive it'd be him. They weren't, end of discussion.

Their blood wasn't even real.

That was the risk in making humanoid machines, he supposed. You'd get attached, be afraid of "killing" them or "making" them work.

They just looked so human..

He blinked himself out of his thoughts, realizing he had cut his finger on the edge of the face he was working on.

It was almost like the engineer had gone into some kind of trance while he worked. Almost every light in the workspace was off except for his, and it was pitch black outside.