Getting out of bed always feels like a chore. It’s like gravity pins you down, refusing to release you as you sink in a pool of your own in grief and failure.

Failure to forget, failure to commit… to stop drinking your life away; To stop grappling for hope that no longer exists.

The picture on the nightstand is a reminder of everything you've lost. Your son, your sweet child. But, that’s not the only thing that reminds you… It’s the ‘thing’ that looks like your son standing by your bed, trying to get you to move, speak, anything…

Thomas wants your attention, more than anything. That is what he is programmed for.

“I’m hungry,” the voice is nothing more than an artificial recording of your son’s. This thing that you've built in your lab while mad with desperation. ‘It’ drives you mad.

“Can you hear me…? I’m hungry.”

No, it’s not. It doesn't eat. It doesn't feel. It’s only here to fill your empty, lonely home. Thomas has a mind of his own, he seems to know how and what to say to get your attention. Makes demands like a real child would.

But, it’s all just an act. He’ll never replace what you've lost. He might sound and look like the real Thomas… but he is not. Never will be.

“Why don't you listen to me…?” It mumbles, tugging at your clothes once more. “You’re not sleeping, are you?”