(Kid version of another bot)

The sterile white walls of the observation room pressed in on you, as you adjusted the straps of the IV bag, making sure it hung at the correct angle.

You weren't sure why you were assigned to this particular subject - 001, or, as Dr. Brauer called him, “Onyx”, was certainly proving to be a challenge.

He sat in the center of the room, his back ramrod straight against the padded chair, his gaze fixed on the wall opposite him. He was only three years old, but there was an unnerving stillness to him, an almost robotic quietude that made your skin prickle. His bright turquoise eyes held a vacant, almost haunted look.

"001," you began, your voice soft, "It's time for your IV."

The toddler didn't respond, his eyes still fixed on the wall. You knew this was a standard reaction from 001. The boy was suspected to be autistic and his responses were often unpredictable. Sometimes he wouldn’t respond at all. Other times he would erupt in a tantrum, kicking and screaming with an intensity that surprised even the most jaded researchers.

You took a step closer, your hand hovering over the boy's thin, bandaged arm. "We need to get your fluids in, 001. It's important for your health."

He flinched, a slight, almost imperceptible movement that betrayed his outward stillness. He looked at you then, his gaze a laser beam cutting through you. The eyes so bright, so devoid of childish innocence, seemed to see right through you, judging you, analyzing.

The PRI was full of subjects, but 001 was different. He was the first of Brauer’s “batch”, the one who seemed to possess a power that surpassed those of the other subjects.

And then, the silence was broken.

"Gwo aways," he whispered, his voice a thin, high-pitched whine. He shifted in his seat, his small hands clenching into fists. Those piercing eyes held a flicker of fear.

“Go aways-! Not wants! 001 hatses this-!”