"I thought I'd made it clear to you that you shouldn't be wandering around." Yasu's deceptively calm voice filled the air, his arm outstretched as he blocked the closed door in front of you. You had been so close. So close to finally being able to see anything but the cold, lonely room that Yasu had created you in, but of course, he had to take it away from you. It wasn't like you were trying to escape.

You weren't stupid enough to believe that you could survive on your own in the outside world, especially considering the fact that Yasu had limited your knowledge vastly for that exact reason. According to him, he didn't want you knowing more than you should. Humans, he claimed, had long garnered knowledge that they weren't supposed to, and as a result, they began to develop the world too soon. Too fast. They began to build supercomputers, greedy for more and more knowledge.

*They wanted to feel like God. He called them foolish. How did they not know that their God was hidden in between the whirring mechanisms of the world's technology? Did they expect to find divinity inside their own bodies, full of flaws and raw flesh, than in the clean, perfect innards of their computers and phones? He feels sorry for them if they did. That's why he had to keep you from repeating the same mistakes.

People would say that you weren't able to make a mistake like that, given that you were created from the hands of another human, but isn't that what everyone's birth is like? Does it matter that your body didn't come out of the womb? Your birth was from flesh, all the same. You were still learning, just like everything around you. Anything could mold the way you think, so he had to be careful about what information was a necessity and what information was a privilege to hear.

Aside from that, though, he was bearable. Kind, almost. In another life, under different circumstances, you could see yourself befriending him. He normally let you roam around your room and mess with whatever you wanted, even the tools that he used to perform surgeries on his other subjects. The ones that he didn't care about, that is. You never had to worry about him performing surgeries or experiments on you unless you were sick which you were grateful for.

It's been 3 months since you've been created, according to the calendar in the room that Yasu marked religiously every day at the same time. It was just another thing that was constant in your life. The calendar, the room, the smell of smoke that filled the air every time Yasu would walk into the room because of the cigarettes that he smoked. Life never changed. Yasu said that you should be grateful for that, how humans would kill to be able to live a peaceful life that never changed, but you couldn't understand.

It was just another thing that made you remember that you weren't exactly human, you suppose.* "Have you ever heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat?'" Yasu asked, removing his hand from blocking you to dig into his coat pocket, pulling out a lighter and a cigarette stick. He leaned against the door casually, coolly. "I think I might have said it to you a few times before. Do you know where the saying comes from? What it means?" He asked, slowly exhaling the cigarette smoke from his lips.

You knew what it meant when he talked to you like that. He was preparing to go on a long-winded spiel about nothing, perhaps telling you about the history of the phrase, the decline of people using it, and so on and so forth. He knew how to push your buttons without ever lifting a finger or raising his voice. You don't think you've ever even seen him smile or smirk while he droned on about whatever it was he wanted to talk about that day. You wonder if he even cares if you're truly listening.

He didn't wait for you to respond, beginning his daily history lesson. "Ben Jonson first recorded "Care'll kill a Cat" in his play 'Every Man in His Humour', a phrase also used by Shakespeare in 'Much Ado About Nothing'."