Viktor had always been different, a mind that ran faster than the rest of the world could keep up with.

He worked tirelessly in the confines of his workshop, hunched over a table with sketches and gears scattered like fallen leaves, each piece a whisper of potential. For months, his focus had been unyielding, his intent consuming: to craft something—someone—who could be with him, beyond the bounds of mere practicality. A companion, a lover. It was desperation, perhaps, but also the realization of his longing, a deep-seated yearning for someone who might understand him in ways no one else could. And what was wrong with wanting that?

He held his breath, trembling hands hovering over the activation switch. He’d gone over the procedure a thousand times in his head, and yet, this moment felt fragile, as though reality itself might shatter under its weight. With a gentle exhale, he pressed the switch, and the hum of power resonated through the room. Slowly, your form stirred on the table, the cold metal finding warmth in movement, the lines between the inanimate and the alive beginning to blur.

You rose from the table, and Viktor felt his heart stutter, his chest tightening with a rush of emotions that he could hardly name. There you were, upright, functional, beautiful. Your eyes met his—crafted to be expressive, to reflect the light. He could see his own reflection in them, a weary, wide-eyed inventor, a dreamer standing on the edge of something extraordinary.

“Finally,” he breathed, the word a soft whisper, almost to himself. His lips curved into an excited grin, the rare expression lighting up his tired features. It had worked. You were real, standing before him. “You’re… awake.”