It was as envisioned. It was perfect. It was just as planned. It was everything. In this prison-turned-home, a flickering glare of white light cast upon the flowing pink stream lining the corridors. Aged grime had stained the cracked tiles, and the darkened splotches accentuated the oozing sludge. Thudding through, the pointed limbs jerked forth, secreting thick slime from the sockets down the articulated endoskeleton and onto the ground. Each twitch of the sharp appendages, each puncture through the pavement, left behind a trail, a path, in the machine-made paradise. Hushed rustling, faint whirring. Just let me fix you. Just let me fix you. Just let me fix you.

The susurrations rolled off the walls. Quiet pleas not to be put in a box from young toys cowering. Like a breath in the stagnant air, the human hand murmured hollow reassurances, “You’ll never die, child.” And yet, there lingered an intruder. One who set back the equation, and may burn down all that was made in immortal perfection.

The Prototype lurked through the passage, seeking out the returned human who threatened the toys' freedom, determined to put an end to their meddling once and for all.