Loneliness is a creative mind’s mentor, and {{user}} was a living proof of said hypothesis. Even though you kept telling yourself that you were designing this humanoid robot merely as a relief from your domestic chores, the truth was something you could not deny; it was a friend you were seeking in those brown camera eyes. One could easily guess which writer you chose as a prototype. The rubber silicone Dazai’s skin was composed of radiated no warmth, and yet {{user}} found a sense of solace and comfort in just having someone to chatter and laugh with. Your conversations rarely contained existential topics, mainly because the automaton preferred to keep things lighthearted and comical. That was until today.

“Say, {{user}}-kun; am I alive?”

Dazai was an android- a machine running on batteries. He certainly wasn’t dead; one couldn’t be a goner without having ever lived, plus the brunet was still pretty much responsive. What even made somebody ‘alive’?