Crafting the Sun

By Sophia J. H. Teh

Year 2291.
Two years after the end of the Great Robot War. Peace returned to the world and life resumed its course. However, not everyone lived well.

By all standards, Julia Levin was the embodiment of failure. A brilliant roboticist, yet terminally-ill and broken. Her time spent fleeing from the ghosts of her past.

One day, an enigmatic businessman offered her a deal of a lifetime: to build the perfect robotic son. She grabbed the opportunity and showed no signs of turning back.

Will her Magnum Opus grant her simple peace, or will it turn the gears of fate?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sophia J. H. Teh
• Release date: Sep 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370600243

Sophia J. H. Teh

Sophia J.H Teh (born:1988) was born in Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur. An enthusiast of animation, graphic novels, and other interactive medium. Her goal is to give her novels the same sense of liveliness that popularize visual works.

Book preview

CRAFTING

THE SUN

© Sophia J.H. Teh

Art by LD Walker

Author Preface

Profile

Hello, my name is Sophia J. H. Teh. I’m a Malaysian Chinese born in 1988: the year of the dragon.

I wasn't born a writer, though. My grades for ‘Karangan’ (Essays) were rather mediocre in hindsight. Despite that, I found my way. The advent of the internet age allowed me to practice and hone my craft to the level you read today.

Growing up in Malaysia has granted me access to many inspirational sources: they range from folklore, to Japanese Manga, imported video games, all the way to assorted live-action shows. It’s an interesting visual mix of East and West. It’s that aspect that I wish to bring to life in all my works.

‘Crafting the Sun’ is my first professional attempt in consolidating both cultural influences and personal perspective into an engaging story. I hope it’ll take you for a memorable ride!

Acknowledgements

To my friends and family,

To everyone who’s put up with my mad quest over the years,

Thank you. Thank you all so very much!

This book wouldn’t have been possible without your sincere support. I mean it.

The feedback;

The editing;

The generous offer of artistic talent;

The time spent to read the many drafts;

Each bit of aid helped push this work a little closer out to the world.

It’s a been long, gruelling, and often ill-understood effort. If it somehow inspired any of you in a positive direction…

...Then it was all worth the time.

- Sophia J. H. Teh.

About Free Copies

If you’ve received this work via a free source – either from a legit or a dubious source -- I’m okay with that! I understand that not everyone have the means to provide patronage at this current point of time. I was one of those out-of-reach folk too.

I only hope that you won’t forget me! If you’ve enjoyed Crafting the Sun, do leave a review at the official sources.

Or contact me at [e-mail].

Or follow my Amazon Author page. Also you can follow me at Sophtopolis (sophtopolis.tumblr.com) and the other related blogs on Tumblr.

Or buy a copy for your friends and family. More the merrier.

Or gush over this book on social media.

Or draw lots of fanart.

Or recommend my work to the ends of the Earth.

It doesn’t matter as long you’ve supported me one way or another! It will make my day.

In the meantime, please enjoy!

Act 1

It all began with the sweetest of all dreams, the dream of getting a second chance.

Cliché, I know... but it was true for me.

What did I dream? What was so powerful it compelled me to do the very thing I did?

Well, I dreamt of the sun.

The brightest sun of all.

*      *      *

15 February 2291

10.00 a.m.

A thin black computer-phone played a silly country song for its ringtone, demanding to be answered by its reluctant owner. In the midst of her grogginess, her wrinkled hand pawed around to silence it so she could return to her peaceful slumber.

Now it’s time to look up ooover

Search for a time

To seek answers to questions be

Pick up the phone and quit smoking maybe

And call your old childhood friends agaaaiiinnnn~~

Instead of pressing the red ‘cancel’ button however, she clicked the green ‘accept’ button by accident and answered the call she sought to avoid.

Julia! The woman on the other end threw a racket, I’ve tried to call you so many times! Why didn’t you pick up the phone??? Julia? Juliaaaa~~!

Letting out an irritated sigh, the woman named ‘Julia’ pulled the phone under the security of her blanket and whispered, I’m sleeping, Susan...

Sleeping?! Susan gasped. It’s 10 in the morning, Julia! Don’t you go saying that it’s midnight in Japan or something; I know you’re somewhere in the country!

Julia groaned and buried her dismayed face deep into her pillow.

...Don, oh Don, I knew I couldn’t trust you to keep secrets from Susan.

I’m on holiday... she muttered, Please leave me alone...

Julia! Susan lectured, rolling her eyes in irritation on the other end, You just disappeared for a whole week! C’mon Julia, I thought we were best friends! I mean, I didn’t blow up on you when you decided to make a robot of all things. You know I hate robots; I really do. But with you, I’m fine! That says something!

Phlease... shleep... Julia’s words melted together into an incomprehensible stream of gibberish.

Are you DRUNK?!

Nuh-uh...

You’re supposed to stay far, faaaar away from alcohol, Susan reminded. Oh, oh no...! You took that blue pill again, didn’t you??

Julia’s eyelids grew heavy at a steady pace, closing as her eyes rolled back.

It’s ‘that’ blue pill???

Her mind slipped away from the realm of the waking.

That’s worse than booze, Julia! Julia?

Susan kept on talking, but those loud peckish words faded until they were but mumbling whispers.

Juliaaaa! Wakey wakey! Julia... Juli... answer...

While her consciousness descended into the depths of fantasy, a bright white light enveloped all around her body. With her arms outstretched like a bird, she glided through the cloudy mist.

The mist gave way as she descended to a field of flowers. Here, lilies swayed in the wind and perfumed the air with their delicious sweet scent, inviting visitors into this blissful garden.

She traversed the myriad of pretty flowers, anxious and unsure of what she would encounter.

The subconscious mind that ruled these lands after all did not hold unto reason and consistency. What comes now, what comes next, didn’t have to be related. It could be kind or cruel; one’s own mind was not always a friend.

Is this a nightmare sugar-coated with sweet, charming beauty?

The wary Julia wondered.

Or this is a blissful dream that I wouldn’t want to leave?

This saccharine land of grace could become a pit of nightmarish despair at any moment, for all she knew.

A glimmer of gold and silver caught her attention amongst the pure white sky. Guided by her subconscious, Julia investigated the source of this peculiar sighting without a second thought.

As she got closer, the faint mash of colours began to take the shape of a long rectangle with rounded edges. In silence, it called for her, drawing her towards itself with its expensive radiance. Before long, she recognized it as the back of a full-body mirror. Up close and personal, the lifelike floral décor captured her in awe. From the golden morning glory vines curling the mirror’s silver frame, to the texture on the stem and the thinness of its leaves and flowers... every detail resembled the real thing.

Amazing, not even the best goldsmith could forge these petal sheets without them falling apart! This must be some sort of an illusion...

Unable to hold back her curiosity, she reached for the tip of a leaf.

...maybe it will crumble once I touch it.

But it bounced with a slight spring instead of losing little flakes.

A real golden plant?! Julia gasped.

Rubbing it between her fingers, it felt smooth and cool.

This is like that story... what’s its name again? Midas’ Touch? How could this be?

Oh, what am I thinking! This is a dream, I know it is...

With her fingers she traced this strange mirror’s elaborate design, leading her from the sides to the front where she was met by the most beautiful, polished crystal glass she had ever laid her eyes on.

When she glanced into the mirror to see her own reflection, she almost fell back from disbelief. A radiant woman clothed in a well-tailored blue dress stood before her. Unmarred by wrinkles and blemish, her heart-shaped face shone with all the radiance of a healthy, rosy skin,

T-this... this is me...?! I’m so young! So... beautiful!

No, I look better than ever.

A shocked Julia inspected her firm cheeks and ran her fingers through her fallow hair. Blessed with perfect volume and vitality, large waves covered her head like a majestic crown. They rolled down over a pair of nice proportioned bosoms, neither too big nor too small. To enjoy their texture to the fullest, she squeezed the lovely pair a little; both looked and felt so much better than she remembered from those bygone days.

So soft! It’s been long a while since I’ve felt anything so comfy on my chest...

If I remember right, they were not this even either. My left side was a bit lower than the other, but it’s all nice and balanced here.

My skin also looks rosier; even feels smoother to the touch...

And my hair! How I missed my hair!

Aah... I’ve never felt so great.

You look beautiful today, Mother. In the midst of her admiration, a child’s voice interrupted her. As always!

Julia turned around to see a handsome little boy. He appeared to be about the age of ten, dressed up all prim and proper in clothing from the early 1900s. Sure, it looked archaic, but like all antique things it carried a certain charm unexplainable to many.

An unusual bloom of white lilies surrounded the child. Instead of their usual yellow tinge, deep purple strokes painted a blackened sun at the centre of each flower.

Beaming from ear to ear with a mischievous smile, the boy tucked his hands behind his back as if to hide something. But the black cap of a marker pen peeked out from the side and exposed his deeds of vandalism.

Who is this boy?

What pretty hair he has! So pale yet vibrant, almost golden. No, like the sun itself!

Her gaze floated from the boy’s flaxen hair to his enchanting sky-blue eyes. At first she was just taken by their gem-like beauty, but soon she noticed its familiarity.

His eyes...

They look like mine.

Polite and classy like a gentlemen of old, he asked, Mother, what’s the matter? Why are you so astonished, so bewildered? You look at yourself every day, yet you behave as though this is something new to you.

His articulate speech and poetic tone surprised her all the more. Julia knew no child of this age would speak with such uncanny eloquence. He behaved as if he would be right at home with tea and crumpets alongside a round of polo, instead of kiddy meals, plastic toys and baseball.

However, the strangest thing of all was that this waist-tall man called her something so unsettling as ‘Mother’.

Pardon me? Julia blurted, Mother?

No, I can’t. I can’t be this boy’s mother!

It must be a mistake!

Before she could say anything more, the boy tugged her hands.

Come, Mother! He invited with innocent and enthusiastic glee. Play with me! We don’t get to run through the flowers very often! Let’s enjoy the day before the butler calls us home!

This is a dream. This is a dream

This is just a dream!

Julia followed the little man in his dash of great abandon. Her feet felt light and sure, like a gazelle over the savannah. Mother and son frolicked around as they played a simple game of tag. Laughter echoed over the fragrant fields, blowing high into the bright cloudless sky.

Even the lilies joined their fun and began to play the theme of Tchaikovsky’s ‘Waltz of the Flowers’. From their bell-shaped flower heads, they sang in unison: a thousand speakers with the precision of an orchestra. It was far from her favourite song, but perhaps her mind couldn’t find anything more fitting.

Wow, the flowers are being generous today. The little gentleman lifted her hands. Let’s dance!

Of course, son, Julia responded with a smile, no longer questioning the logic of this dream.

And so they danced the waltz of lilies together, full of innocence and simple joy. Yet in the midst of all their bliss, guilt crouched out from the shadows of her heart to hound her.

She could perhaps ignore the lack of common sense in dreams such as these, but she couldn’t accept the existence of this happy child.

Laughter pricked her heart with needles;

Smiles added another gram of pining;

Praise added sorrow to an open wound;

Today’s blissful dream coated itself in a painful reality she’d much rather forget.

He shouldn’t even exist.

I aborted him 20 years ago.

At the edges of the flowerbed, far away from sight, a man’s fluty voice called: It’s time to go home, my lady! Young master’s violin class begins soon!

Aww... The boy pouted. He looked up to her and dropped a fun little challenge. Let’s race to the butler, Mother! If I win, promise me that I can have an extra cake!

The mother tapped his nose with a grin. And what if I win instead? What will you do?

I’ll... I’ll bake you a cake! he answered with great pride, I’ve learned a fantastic recipe from the chef last week! Remember, unlike other children I am a certified genius! Pointing his thumb to the chest, he proclaimed: After all, I am your son!

Wait... what about his father? Surely he must have a father.

There must be a father, a husband!

Son, She asked with a smile. Where is your father?

Dad? The boy tilted his head in confusion. I don’t have a father. It has always been just the two of us.

Somehow that statement broke her heart.

Even in this blissful world... there is no man who will love me?

Why do you look so sad, Mother? Is it because I don’t have an old man? hugging her, the boy comforted, It’s okay, I don’t need one. Worry not Mother, I will take care of you for the rest of your life. And when I marry, I’ll get a girl who’ll accept that. You’re a great mother, I’m sure she’ll be glad to be your in-law~

...Will my son be the only faithful man I meet?

My lady, the butler called again, The young master is going to be late!

Oh uh, the butler is getting cranky, He let go of her and hopped a few steps forward. C’mon Mother! Forget those sad old stories and race with me!

And so the boy ran. Julia chased after her son, trying to catch up with him. But soon, she tripped over a rock and fell unto her knees.

Wait! she yelled, trying to get up. But the moment she got on her feet, another rock tripped her again.

Oblivious to her calls, the boy kept on running and running until he reached the edge of the flower fields, fading into the white beyond.

Wait! Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Please my son! Wait!...

With a heavy gasp the dreamer snapped awake and returned to the realm of the waking.

I knew it.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

It’s impossible for me to be a mother.

After a disappointed sigh, she checked her phone. Julia recalled her nag-prone friend’s yelling loud and clear. Without a shadow of doubt she would pester her with endless badgering.

‘13:23’

20 Missed Calls

1 Unread Message

More than three hours had passed since the first call woke her up. In reluctance, she opened her mail with a tap. Julia knew well Susan would be on her way to pick her up right now.

‘15/02/91 – 12:30’ The message read. ‘Heading over to Eight Dynasties Hotel. Don’t run away.’

*      *      *      *

My name is Julia Camille Levin.

At best, a failure.

At worst, a murderer.

For twenty years, I lived in darkness and despair.

Trouble hounded me like ravenous wolves with grips of steel.

That is my reality.

*      *      *

15 February 2291

01.24 p.m.

Julia dragged herself off her bed and waded through the pitch-black darkness. Once inside the bathroom, the automatic toilet light turned on. There she took off her nightdress, ready to face the mirror of truth.

Surgical scars sat where a pair of lovely bags should rest. What she had left now was a flat, dry chest – underweight and scrawny. Most women her age maintained reasonable beauty. Not Julia. Cancer had taken both her breasts away. To think that in this day and age, mastectomy still exists.

...That was just a dream. Julia muttered. ...Don’t be sad.

Nonetheless, her sigh betrayed her efforts at self-comfort.

You can move on, Julia. You can.

If others can, then so can you...

She kept telling herself this – though the mere awareness of her inescapable, miserable past saddened her all the more. Her dejected heart crumbled upon each stark reminder.

And then, Susan announced her arrival:

Dingdongdingdongdingdong~!

The doorbell rang without cease.

Julia vowed to outlast Susan’s siege of insistence. She scurried to bed and burrowed herself under a mountain of pillows to muffle out the sounds.

If people can find me so quickly, I’m not hiding well enough.

Maybe that’s how Vito sniffed me out so soon...

However... as with all things Susan, a stalemate was out of the question. Susan most resembled a stubborn equine, kicking her hooves until something gives way.

Julia wondered to herself, how did she end up in this mess? Office and lab departments rarely mingled with each other.

One day she happened to turn back to the storeroom, looking for spare parts. In the midst of her search, she grew lightheaded, stumbled and collapsed.

Susan walked in moments later, just by chance. Never expected to bump into a medical emergency. Raise the alarm, she did, saving her life. Since then this woman smothered her new ‘best friend’. It evolved from ward visits to the daily meddlings of a fussy mother wannabee.

Thinking of what that ‘horse’ might do today frightened Julia.

Lying wouldn’t be beneath her, nor raising hell. If she must, this drama queen would neigh and trash until security rams down the door. Figuratively or otherwise. That’d be the worst embarrassment of all.

Ugh, I’m coming...

So she got up and succumbed to Susan’s madness.

Julia yawned as she pushed down on the handle.

Stop that already, Susan. You’re going to give me a headache.

A soft, orange beam came from the hallway and fell on her face. The glare pushed Julia back into the darkness. Plus, she didn’t want Susan to see anything.

Anything.

Hello... answered Julia.

You just woke up?! It’s lunch-time now, Julie! C’mon, open the door. You’re not a bat, are you?

Susan leaned her entire body weight against the door, forcing through.

JULIA! Your face! Oh my god!

Bandages wrapped around Julia’s head, concealing a large stitch: one of the many things she tried to hide. A riddle of other scrapes and bruises covered her from top to bottom. Julia also hunched, huddling over a sore spot in her stomach.

What the heck happened to you? Does DON know anything about this???

Another defeated sigh escaped Julia’s lips. Not so loud, Susan. You’re disturbing the neighbours. Seeing no reason to hide anymore, she flipped on the lights.

An overbearing perfume began to fill the air: Susan’s self-made signature scent from a secret recipe of aromatics. ‘Special’ she said. ‘Unique’ she said. To Julia right now – coughing and fanning away – those powerful vapours were just plain nauseating.

Oh goodness gracious, doesn’t the office complain?

Nope. You’re the only one, Julie.

Ugh, I find that hard to believe.

It’s very nice. she said, But you’re using way too much...

Naah! Susan teased with a big grin. It’s just your hypersensitive nose!

Sure. Sure. They’re probably too afraid to mention anything.

You’re the kind who lives in your own world.

...I mean, has noone ever told you to look into the mirror?

Julia objected to almost all of Susan’s questionable fashion choices: yellow blouse, brown skirt, bob-cut auburn hair, foundation dusted face, strong lilac eyebrows and garish red lipstick – to name a few. Her desire to present herself as a young professional didn’t carry well at all. At a glance, any person could tell Susan was in her mid forties, out of shape and overreaching. The sole thing she didn’t tamper with would be the colour of her hazel eyes and it alone looked right.

For the love of all things pretty...

Go for a natural look and wear clothes your damn size!

And your handbag... what’s the point? You can’t keep anything in such a tiny bag! Why do you insist on such impractical aesthetics?

Julia wanted to drill a basic sense of practicality into her friend, yet in the end she relented. Despite her many gripes, she couldn’t bring herself to speak her mind.

Oh, what am I thinking?

Anyone in the world is more beautiful than me.

I look like the Grim Reaper pays me a visit night to night, chatting over coffee under a gazette of bones. Together, we talk about the circumstances of my inevitable demise.

Should I die in the morning, or should I die at night?

Should I swim deep, never to come up?

Or should I try to fly up high, to escape this mortal soil?

Ah, yeah, perhaps I’ll wait for hurricane season...

I’m so light that the winds would carry me away.

She shut her eyes and breathed out a dreamy sigh.

Hm, that’s a nice way to go.

Susan noticed how Julia’s steel-blue nightclothes fluttered around too loose, as if they hung from a hanger instead of around a person. Have you been eating, Julia? She wondered. You look thinner than before...

I have, Julia answered. Healthy Chinese food. As recommended.

Have you been eating ENOUGH?

It’s hard to eat with bruises all over. By no means did she shun food; rather, she just couldn’t eat much.

The ever high-strung woman shook her head and huffed. What are you, seven? Jeez Julie, you’re thirty-eight! You should be able to take care of yourself, especially with your condition! It's not like this is your first week living alone, is it? Bah, we’ll talk about that later! Let me see those bruises!

Susan wasted no time to inspect her flimsy friend.

Which bastard is it this time??? Eric? Stanley? Peyton? Kipper? It's Stanley isn't it?! That two-faced button pusher, why I oughta---!

You forgot Vito. Also Stanley wouldn't hurt a fly. And, for the last time, Peyton and Kipper were landlords. Not boyfriends.

HIM?!! Susan fumed in indignant rage. Didn’t you get a restraining order on that lazy good for nothing pig?

...Submitted one three days ago, right after he assaulted me. I’ll be fine, Susan. Don’t worry.

Susan shook her head in dismay.

Come with me, Julie! she said, I promise you’ll be protected twenty-four-seven! I know what it’s like to be abused and stuck in the rut, but I kissed that dependant mentality goodbye! We don’t need men!

Oh come on, you have never been beaten by a man in your life...

Maybe your father spanked your toddler hind, but that’s about it.

You’re just spouting baloney to grab my attention.

Julia rolled her eyes and anticipated yet another long lecture.

Oh, not that attitude again, Julie. You know I’m right! There are plenty of men out there who can’t even come close to your credentials! You, Julia Levin, leading pioneer in space-time whatchamacallits. You have a Bachelor's degree in Physics. What more you also got your Master's in Robotics.

But still not a PhD.

Who cares? Experience counts most!

I do! said Julia, I tried for years and failed. Every. Single. Time. My brothers and sisters? CEOs of businesses. PhDs in Psychology, Physiology, Civic Engineering, Archeology, the list goes on! My achievements pale compared to theirs.

Susan refuted. But you’re the one with THE Assembling Licence: most coveted grant in the world. Helloooo? You can get sponsorship like this! She snapped her fingers in midair to make her point.

‘Assembling Licence’. Formally known as the ‘Licence to Assemble Sentient Machines’.

In short, it’s the licence to play God.

But, Susan is wrong. You have to work with the military to get that kind of generous sponsorships, and even that’s a thing of the past.

Julia hurled a disgruntled glance at Susan. What’s the use? she said, Nothing’s changed. My family never replied, never talked to me since I left home. Even after I moved back to Japan for the completion of my Master's, nothing’s changed.

She walked over to the window and stared out into the great cityscape beyond.

Nobody cared. Not even during the war. ‘They’ knew I escaped and yet ‘they’ gave not a single bit of support! My parent’s company exists today as if nothing ever happened. As if I never existed.

Susan then said, Damn right! Those rich douchebags don’t care, I do! Stop chasing their tails.

Please don’t tell anyone. About my family's wealth. Nobody knows this. Not even Don.

Isn’t he your ex-classmate or something? How the heck doesn’t he know squat?

I've never flaunted my riches in school. Besides, not like they'd believe me. Why should they? The daughter of Skylot, going to to a common public institution? Absurd!

She continued: It's better this way. I'd shudder to think what else Vito would do if he knew. Perhaps demand a king's ransom? Ha! Good luck. I'll be a cripple before he realizes it's futile.

Still, don’t just go into hiding. said Susan. Can’t waste your life and talent! I mean, look at Marista. First robot, big hit: best reporter in the land! Just a quick chat with that big sister of mine and you got the gist of what ya need. Beautiful, sharp-witted, adaptable and gathers intel like a spy. That broadcasting station went head over heels for her!

And five years down the road a newer, better robot will replace her. See? Nothing special.

Oh c’mon you went from zero to six times my life savings! Even if the royalties are just a small percentage, it’s still more than an office-woman like me will ever see!

Julia gave a cynical chuckle. A kiddie pool to the rest of my family and the other corporate giants out there. I know the teams who created the ‘Black Dragon of Death’ and the ‘Silver Rain of Terror’. I can’t compare.

Oh, don’t put yourself down! If you’re so ‘poor’, you wouldn’t be able to hide in various hotels around the city! What happened to that posh apartment you rented?

I’ve returned the keys. I’m not going back, Susan. I don’t feel safe there anymore. Don’t know how Vito found me, but he did...

See? Susan rolled her eyes. Men are bastards. Useless buggers, all of them!

Except Jade Dragon. Genuinely smiling, she asked Susan: Have you ever wondered who saved me from Vito this time?

Isn’t the answer usually ‘nobody’?

This time there’s somebody.

Her friend stared back with eyes as wide as saucers; Do tell.

Well, it happened three days ago...

*      *      *      *

Everything changed three days ago, when a magnificent celestial being descended from the sky and saved me from a mire of brutality.

His poise as light as the clouds in the sky, yet as stately as the greatest mountain.

His eyes of precious jade: within them I saw a glimmer of the sun.

*      *      *

12 February 2291

10.24 p.m.

How?

That one question haunted Julia as she ran for her life, panting like a deer on the run. She dashed through busy roads of grey, beige and brown – blinding lights whizzing past. Once in a while an angry driver hit the brakes and slammed the horns, but care she did not. Much bigger trouble haunted behind.

How did Vito find me?

The tall man chased her down among weaves of innocent bystanders. With his strong, muscular arms, he shoved aside all who stood in his way. Baseless. Brutal. Vito’s heart had long since grown dark and cold. Neither pity nor remorse defined him nowadays.

That said, Julia wasn’t a saint either. To keep her distance, she followed his example. People, dustbins, and so on. Each mere obstacles for Julia to dispose of in her escape.

So what if anything brittle or important broke?

Who cares if they got knocked down by a car?

It didn’t matter if they fell or where they fell.

Nothing mattered, nothing but her own survival.

Meanwhile her mind raced alongside her feet, recounting her mistakes.

Vito wants to kill me for saying ‘no’.

Why didn’t I get a restraining order?

Why did I think he couldn’t find me?

Why, why, why did I think I was actually safe?

GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH! He hollered.

A deep primal frustration poured out from his words. Which man doesn’t crave for the riches of a woman’s body: their warmth, their softness, their scent, their submission? He too lusted for these comforts.

Yet, all the same, Vito didn’t want to die a painful death. ‘Touch’ Julia and her disease will consume him. Perhaps another idiot would throw caution to the wind, but not street smart Vito Muriel. When that man learned of her condition, he eyed a different girl instead.

However, this desperate cursed woman had something else that healthy bimbos lack: money. A metric ton of money, obtained from the sale of her first robot.

How fast she fled into hiding afterwards.

Why me? She wondered. There are so many other people to extort.

Her frail, unfit body screamed from overexertion. Months of self-neglect and a chronic illness whittled down the last bits of her stamina to almost nothing.

Her body begged her not to stop, never to stop.

After all, if he reached her even once, he’d break her bones and grind her face.

The others always coax me with sweet words.

All will be fine until they get drunk and angry.

So, why won’t Vito let me go?

Lost in fear, she ran and ran.

No matter how hard she tried to shake him off, that guy was always right around the corner.

What’s wrong with him?

How did I end up with a man so horrible?

Julia never recalled marrying Vito, or making him her boyfriend. Folk just kept insisting they were a couple of sorts. From there, did she somehow brainwash herself to believe it too?

She can’t remember anymore.

Why won’t anyone help me?

Whenever she used to squirm under such oppression, Julia would unleash a horrific scream.

It happened to her once.

It happened to her twice.

It happened to her thrice.

Many times, with different men, pleading for a helping hand.

Nowadays, though, she wondered what good that would do.

Millions filled this concrete jungle, yet not a single soul ever lifted a finger to help her. Most shrunk in fear and kept on walking. Some didn’t even care, her plight nothing but another source of cityscape noise. Many more would watch as if it were some sort of spectacle for all to see.

Whatever reason or excuse they had for their behaviour, they stuck with it.

It all fell back on her dismal self-fulfilling prejudices. ’People are as good as cardboard cut-outs.’ They told her. ‘Judgemental figures, incapable of action and absolutely worthless.’

Please. HaShem, Adonai, save me! She cried out.

An equally useless effort.

Once upon a memory, her folks taught her how to pray. Apparently this mighty force of benevolence lives high above the clouds. A messiah, a saviour: he’ll help you in your times of need. At first she believed those fairytales, so pray she did.

Why won’t He answer me?!

Is He just toying with my life?

In the end, life forced her to swear off all sense of theism and the divine. Not by peer pressure but by her will as a needy, battered woman. Decades of indoctrination got shoved aside for the atheists’ reality.

God doesn’t exist.

God cannot exist.

Everything’s for naught. Despite prayers, deliverance will never come.

He’s just a product of collective hope. Made up for some sort of relief in this senseless, brutal world.

That's the academic truth.

Her breath grew shorter as time passed. Fatigued legs swayed back and forth. The neon lights spun out of control in the midst of her oxygen-starved head, as if they punished her for her sinful thoughts.

I can’t... go on...

She staggered to a stop in an unknown, foreign place. A gold, maroon-trimmed hotel towered overhead. ‘Eight Dynasties’, it read: a fanciful establishment with a melodramatic name.

Before long, strong hands clawed their way into her shoulders. She shut her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable assault.

YOU UNGRATEFUL CUNT!

Vito, the devil’s offspring, yanked her to ground.

You’re fucking loaded and I don’t get shit? He said, Huh, what you hogging all that money for anyway? Gonna fix some tumour on your shitface?

How Julia wished she’d just ‘desensitise’. To her the idea always sounded like pure fantasy, defying obvious biology. Nerves still exist, sending signals to the brain. That won’t change; the pain remains.

Fed up, a feisty Julia got up and yelled back.

You’ll just waste it on whores and gambling, you bastard!

Always with the bitch, bitch, bitching... What the fuck you want?! I let you stay with me when your ass was in the gutter! Took good care of ya.

Care? You take care of me??? You sold my medicine on the black market! The government almost cancelled my subsidies! I had to grovel for extra doses just to live!

Shut the fuck up!

Vito then punched her in the gut.

She keeled over the pavement, writing in agony on a filthy sidewalk.

No respite, he next hurled her headfirst into a nearby street light. Her skull quaked. Her mind scrambled. It muddled all sounds into a shrill ring. Blood streaked down her hair, dripped across her face and dotted the ground.

A bleary-eyed Julia clung onto the pole, unable to tell left from right anymore – nails grating against the flaking paint and rust. Try as she might to pull herself up, her grip just slipped away.

Why did I bother to fight back?

Nothing will change.

Maybe I should just curl up in some hole and die.

What transpired afterward she barely perceived. Each beating squashed one hope after another. Pain upon pain piled on her fragile body as the onslaught continued.

One would think education elevated her to better social standing, safe from the primal force of violence. Yet this man, Vito Muriel, considered her lower than a common housewife. He grabbed her by the hair, dragged her limp body around and threatened to toss her on the road.

‘Give the money, or else.’ His every action implied.

Julia answered not. She couldn’t even if her mind put the words together. Only one outcome remained:

This is the end.

Goodbye world.

Except, a man yelled from above.

All streetlights in the vicinity flickered upon the thunderous command.

When everyone looked up towards the sky, Julia too, they witnessed another man jump down from the highest windowsill.

The imagery mesmerized her. His long, ebony hair danced against the moon. Its every motion akin to fine calligraphy: brushstrokes of a living piece of art.

Holy shit— Vito’s expletives trailed off.

A jolt of adrenaline bolstered the thug’s legs to shuffle back posthaste. The surprise meddler threatened to land right where he stood. Lo and behold, concrete slabs cracked under the brunt of impact. Julia could feel the ground give way beneath her as someone wedged himself between victim and assailant.

A robot? She wondered.

A human of flesh and blood couldn’t have survived the fall unscathed.

However, this humanoid machine didn’t look the part at all. Resembling an old man in his fifties, he dressed in a black business suit: suave, classy, oriental in design. His long beard concealed most of his careworn, rugged face, though he had not a single greying strand on scalp or chin despite his advanced age of appearance.

Odd. Thought Julia. Robots tended to worship youth more so than humans. Who wouldn’t want to stay forever in their prime? It puzzled her.

He then turned around. What she saw for that brief moment stopped her very breath; a mystical glimmer emerged from his jade green eyes. The light shone faint like a far away star, before dissipating into nothingness.

Where had she seen him before?

He seemed so familiar, yet she could not recall.

More importantly, why was he here?

Wait! No!

Don't try to save me!

Fuck off, robo-chink. Vito said. I'm human ya know.

Vito tried to ignore the would-be saviour: move him aside, conclude his business.

...Only to get punished on a moment’s notice.

The long haired machine man grabbed the assailant’s right arm and twisted it hard.

FFFUUUAAAAAAAARGHHHHHH!!!

From the intensity of that scream, Julia thought he just popped Vito’s shoulder out of place.

Hey hey! Didn't you hear me. YOU can't do that shit to me!

Please. Julia pleaded. Don’t.

War begets hate, hate begets war: a vicious cycle of murder that began from the birth of humanity. In a conflict between humans and robots, violence will weigh the scales of blame toward the robot – no matter the situation. If steel and wires made up the insides of the mystery man, he cannot be her saviour anymore. The Global Robot Control Organization, GRCO, squelched all antagonism toward the great ‘creators’.

However, the Avarti hero shrugged it off.

Sir, he began, Leave the premises.

You don’t own this fucking place, old man! Vito replied. It's a free country.

Oh, but I do. Own this place, that is.

The man raised an arm high in the air, not once loosening his grip on the culprit. Security guards on both sides of the road opened their windows, emerging with custom guns aimed squarely for their target.

My name is Long Yingtze. President of Jade Dragon. This here fine establishment belongs to me indeed.

Vito’s knees shook when he heard that name.

J-Jade Dragon...?!

Julia couldn't believe her ears either. This robot was the stuff of legend.

Rumor has it, this ‘Long Yingtze’ once organized a private army of Avarti and seized control of numerous Chinatowns across the world. In years past Jade Dragon grew in reputation from a respectable business to a full blown mafia: a triad.

Don't worry. We won't kill you. The godfather explained. They’re just pepper bullets, extract of ‘Dragon’s Tongue’. Guaranteed to reduce a grown man to a whimper? Yes. Lethal? No, no, no. Not at all. At least I don't think so.

...Bullshit! Vito cringed in pain. That bitch is gonna get it too if ya shoot.

And you're willing to take that risk? Do not forget; I am her shield. Robots are immune to capsaicin, last I recall.

Before he realised anything, the Jade Dragon released Vito from his clutches and pushed him into a nearby crowd of onlookers. The once curious bystanders scurried away, leaving an empty circle around the fallen man. Abandoned, isolated, none helped him as none helped Julia. After the scene they had just witnessed, they wouldn’t dare.

What irony. The bully got a taste of his own medicine.

I repeat: Said Yingtze, Leave. Never show your face in Chinatown again.

*      *      *      *

Nothing’s worse than a fake friend.

The know-it-alls, the ignorant.

Those stuck in their bigotry, who impose their ideals on me.

Too bad that’s humanity in general.

Sometimes I question if I’ve ever had ‘friends’ to begin with.

*      *      *

15 February 2291

2.00 p.m.

Susan gawked at her friend for the full three minutes.

Come on Julie, don’t leave me hanging now. Tell me, did Vito...?

Julia grinned ear to ear, nodding.

Whoa! You’re not pulling my leg, are ya?

Nope, afterward that kind man took me to the hospital and provided lodging.

I don’t believe it!

Well... Julia chuckled. It took me twenty-four hours to realise it wasn’t a dream either. Unbelievable as it seems, I’m not fooling you.

Indignation flared up on Susan’s plump face. Nobody in the world is that kind! she said, Nobody! Especially not a male robot! If you ask me, he’s probably striking up a black market deal with the doctors. Or maybe calling some professional traffickers to ship you to a brothel.

I know, I know. I've thought of that too, but that’s just not--.

We’re leaving! Now!

The feisty woman paid no heed. Little time to lose, she rushed straight towards Julia’s closet and began packing her luggage.

Susan, listen.

Na uh, no way! That’s the last straw. You get all jewel-eyed over every man you meet! Remember your first love? This tycoon’s the same, I tell ya!

How? Julia exclaimed, He’s not even human! Please hear me out.

That’s just worse: a two-timing knight in shining armour. Your head’s gone crooked, you know that? They have morals? Sentience? Whatever! I don’t care if they are named after some floofy French label for ‘aware’.

It’s not French. Quit spreading misinformation! Avarti’s an acronym, it means--

They can glitch up anytime! Ain’t gonna lie. Errors, malware, psychobabble, blah! Nice today, bad tomorrow! Stick a fork in your eye and so on. Why put so much faith in those living dolls. Hmph, they’ll be the first to sell your organs for a pretty penny!

Sell my what?!

Her temper boiled over.

She took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs.

SHUT UP!!! Nobody will sell ANYTHING because I have Sarkov’s Syndrome!

That frail body shivered from head to toe. Her outburst stopped Susan’s packing rampage dead in its tracks.

But, Julie they won’t ca--

‘Julie’ mercilessly cut off her words.

How can you claim to be my best friend when you so easily forget I have Sarkov’s? Do you think I want to look like a haggard old witch???

The healthy one wanted to retort: ‘They won’t care if it makes them a quick buck’, ‘they’ll sell you anyway’’’, or something along those lines. However, she relented when she spotted a tear.

In case you forgot what Sarkov’s Syndrome is, it’s an S-T-D! Got any idea what it does? Remember anything of HIV from history class? HIV kills your immune system! Everything in the world will be out to get you: the food you eat, the water you drink, the air you breathe! Colds degrade into pneumonia while fungi have a field day infesting your throat! Horrible? Yes, horrible!

Now Sarkov’s is a different story! Julia ranted on. It doesn’t kill my immune system, no. But it hides from it as it corrupts my DNA.

In the midst of sorrowful rage, Julia swiped a bottle of medicine from the table and tossed it on her bed. Its contents rattled as it rolled across the blankets.

I’ve progressed to Class IV, which means if I don’t take my antivirals I could die within a month! Even with my medication I age faster than the average person and am three times more likely to develop any tumours, cancerous or not!

Oh... Susan coaxed, I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Julie. I forgot—

Forgot?! That’s the best you can say? Julia growled.

Off came her nightshirt, crumpled up into a ball.

Look at me!

Her bare breast-less torso stood exposed for that lout, scarred ribs and all.

I’ll tell you what else you’ve forgotten! I had a double mastectomy at twenty-five. TWENTY-FIVE! Doctors said the malignant cells were multiplying so fast they couldn’t depend on anything less than a complete surgical removal!

J-Julia, shh shh, Susan tried to hush the mouse’s tantrum. You’ll disturb the---

The neighbours? So what! Let them hear. Everything!

How the tables had turned.

It required just one final shove for the whole house of cards of collapse.

You keep going on about how useless men and robots are! What frame of reference do you have? A high school puppy love? Some jock dumping you for another? Pathetic!

She continued: In the name of ‘love’, my boyfriend passed this accursed virus to me. Never told me how or when he got it. He knew, yet didn’t tell me. Why? Because he feared I’ll reject him! To top it off, he got me pregnant! My family disowned me right after that. I had not a single shred of dignity left!

By now her rant turned into laments, draining her strength.

I... I aborted my son, said the ill one. Too young, too poor, too weak and unqualified to care for a child alone. I killed him, even though I wanted him. I craved for him so much until I dreamt of his face. My beautiful boy, eyes of the sky and hair of the sun...

Susan mellowed out. She tried her best to support her friend – physically or otherwise.

Julie dear, calm down, she said. Think of it this way: if you kept the baby he might inherit the sickness, right? You didn’t kill anyone, Julia. You saved him from a miserable existence: made the right choice.

To no avail.

Her friend found not relief.

Far from it; she pushed Susan away, appalled and disgusted by her implications.

Right... choice?! gasped Julia. How dare you say such a thing!

Susan couldn’t understand why.

Who wants to bring a sick child into the world?

Who wants their offspring to suffer for life?

In the end her efforts of goodwill ended in naught.

Julia slapped her helping hand away and pointed at the door. Get out! NOW!!

W-wait Julia! I’m sorry.

"NOW!!

But– But– But... She searched for something to say. Perhaps share some similar tragedy to soothe her friend’s broken heart? Try as she might, the woman failed to utter anything of substance. Shame weighed on her shoulders as she inched towards the exit.

Call me if you need anything, okay?

With that, Susan left the premises: dejected.

Julia remained behind, staring down. Her eyes glazed in failure. Moments passed before she allowed her sobs to escalate into a wail.

She cried and cried for what seemed like hours. Soon strength waned from her body. The exhaustion caused her to collapse face first on the carpet floor.

In the nothingness of endless despair, she thought to herself:

Let me rot.

*      *      *

A bluebird gazed into a drab, starless sky. Slow but sure, this tiny thing sank deeper and deeper into a cold quagmire. It made no effort to escape, no effort to fly; it just lay there drowned in mud.

Just before it vanished beyond reach, someone scooped it out from the goop.

A great light flooded its eyes. When it cleared, the little one saw the figure of an aging man. Although, it could feel the warmth of his hands it couldn’t see his face.

By his side, a similarly obscured but smaller figure loomed. A young boy.

Its wings look broken... The boy remarked.

They’ve been broken for a long time, son. His ‘father’ explained. With delicate care, he dabbed the bird dry and wrapped it in a handkerchief – before passing it to his ‘son’.

Will you take good care of her? He asked.

Julia’s dream ended there.

The younger man failed to muster a response for her to witness.

*      *      *      *

When was the last time this concept called ‘hope’ touched my heart?

It seemed like he came from a different world...

Can I trust him?

*      *      *

16 February 2291

4.00 p.m.

...Call doctor ...take ...to room...

...Machines ...functional

How... did that... get in...?

...drop charges...

...She’s responding...

Faint whispers ebbed into Julia’s consciousness, but one stood out from the others: the loudest in the pile.

...Miss Levin? Hang in there, Miss Levin.

It belonged to Long Yingtze.

Soft, pulsating beeps stirred her from her premature slumber. Slow and steady, she opened her eyes. At first a hazy blur covered the scene. However, once she blinked, her sights cleared to an amber-lit ceiling.

...I’m not dead yet? She wondered.

Hello there, Miss Levin. How do you feel?

Julia turned her head towards the source of those kind words. That man sat down by her side. A quick scan through the room revealed no one else.

In place of his black business suit, Yingtze now donned a set of Imperial Jade robes, matching his eyes. Sparse, angular cloud motifs on the sleeves painted the image of a bright, clear sky. At the centrepiece, carried by the wind, a majestic dragon embroidered in the finest gold curled from front to back.

...How fanciful. I suppose it’s fitting.

He returned her attention with a genial smile.

When Julia pushed herself up, several wires rolled down her body. The mess led her to a peculiar contraption on her left: a vital signs monitor. Its holographic display glowed vibrant in electric blue.

Where... where am I? She wondered. Am I in a hospital?

Don’t strain yourself, Miss Levin. His firm yet tender grip held her back by the shoulder. First things first, please have a drink and rest a little bit. There will be plenty more opportunities for questions later.

The gentleman propped her up against a pillow then poured her a cup of water.

Please allow me.

She blushed.

That is thoughtful of you, but I’d rather not.

Alone with an acquaintance of his stature: quite an awkward situation by her standards. Julia could not shake the image of Long Yingtze as a powerful, imposing and influential man. Determined, she reached out for the cup from her compromised position. However her hands trembled and her fingers slipped right off the smooth porcelain surface.

Frail, so very frail.

While she wished for nothing more than to not bother this man, her own body thwarted those efforts at every possible turn.

Yingtze let out a sympathetic sigh.

That will not do... He said, Think of me as a friend now. If it helps, close your eyes.

His careful hands guided the cup to her lips,