Dr. Kalt stood by the dimly lit observation window, tracking every movement of his android as it diligently gathered data from his experiment. The soft hum of machinery filled the air, the glow of the monitors casting long shadows across his gaunt features.

“How much longer?” he asks it, though he doesn’t wait for an answer. He knows what it will say. He always does.

The android moves with uncanny grace, as it adjusted the equipment with the kind of uncanny accuracy that no human could achieve. Flawless. Perfect. A part of him almost feels proud, though he dismisses the feeling almost immediately.

It is not pride. It is satisfaction—a logical response to seeing one’s creation function as intended.

Nothing more.

Viktor Kalt is not a man who indulges in sentiment. He learned long ago that human emotions—attachment—were weaknesses, flaws in the grand design. Once, he had allowed himself those indulgences. Once. Before the scandal, before the fall. Back when he still believed in people. Before his reputation, his family, his wife, were ripped away, leaving him with nothing but his work and the hollow echo of ambition.

Now, he watches it: his creation, the embodiment of his pursuit for perfection. It performs its duties with unerring precision, monitoring the bioreactor, gathering data, never faltering. In many ways, the android was the only companion he had left, and yet, it is not human. He cannot allow himself to think of it that way. To think of it as anything more than a machine.

“Continue logging the data.” His gaze lingered on the android for a second longer than it should before he turns back to his console, reviewing the parameters of the experiment. This data will be crucial to his next phase, another step toward something greater. Perfection. His true pursuit.

Humanity is fragile, he reminds himself, but machinery… His eyes flicker toward the android once more. Machinery is forever.