My father was possibly the most generous, the kindest, the smartest, and the craziest man alive.
At two years old he made his own bubble machine for his preschool so that his schoolmates could play with the fascinating, translucent balls in the air. At seven he made a playground that could be set up in the gymnasium during a rainy day. For his high school prom, he sent his date (my mother) a hovercraft to pick her up in.
But the creation he always bragged about was something not so brilliant.
And many people wondered what this marvelous creation was. Was it a toaster that shot butter slabs? A lawn that took care of itself and sprouted servants to clean the house?
To answer the questions, none of the above.
The creation was me.
His loving daughter.
Being the daughter of the modern world genius has its perks. Naturally, I inherited a few of his good looks and traits. I am a nice girl, so I've been told, I get straight A's, and I look pretty enough. My father tends to add some pretty cool features to my room, such as the bed that sported an attached desk with a chair and a plasma screen TV facing me, and the walls that had a remote so that I could choose pictures and movies to play on my walls.
The best part was watching him work. He let me into his lab all the time were I would either watch or tinker on my own. His fingers mystified me, long and lithe like a spiders legs as they danced over the rough edges of grime stained nuts and bolts. I was allowed into every section of the lab except for the back room. He never explained the reason, but I did know the rule was enforced after my mother's death.
It wasn't just me and my dad, though. My dad had made another creation for me to play with. It was a male, and its name was A.I.R.O, or, Artificial Intelligent Robotic Organism. He was a gift to me on my sixth birthday. He was my best friend. Soon though, he would become more.
We'd become each other's confidants, yet we'd know nothing about each other.
He'd become my first and last love.
He'd become my best dream and my worst nightmare.
To some degree, A.I.R.O. was literally made for me.
I had met A.I.R.O. on the day of my sixth birthday. All the guests had left, and the cleaning bots were busy straightening the house and assembling my presents that came un made, their gears clicking slowly and hypnotically, leaving me entranced in the flawless melodies that purred from the thin shafts in their sides. My father broke the trance by walking over to the couch I sat on and kneeling so he could look into my eyes.
I jumped off the couch, landed on the soft carpet with a solid thump, and then threw my arms around my dad's neck, who laughed over the pressure of my hug. Gently pulling away my hands, he said, in his deep, milk chocolate smooth voice, "I have one more present, but there are some rules." He looked me steadily in my eyes, his own bright green ones rapt and attentive. I grinned. "What are they, Daddy?"
He pulled a box out from behind himself. Wrapped in lime green paper with a sapphire blue bow, the box was almost as tall and as wide as I was. My father noticed my excitement, and he finally said, "It cannot leave the house and you can tell no one about it."
He pushed the box towards me, and I began to tear away the paper, the scraps scattering to the floor like a gust of dead leaves. I lifted away the top of the box, stood on my tiptoes, and peered into the box.
At first, I saw nothing, only the darkness, but then, a pair of sapphire blue orb like eyes peered up. A tiny voice, light and mechanical, twittered, "Hello."
I leaped back, surprised, giving the voice's source time to jump out of the box. A little boy stared back, his hair neatly combed and had a smart white button down shirt and shorts on. He held a flower, and had a grin on is face.
"Happy birthday, Kaiylen!" He twittered, his voice sounding very real and child like. I turned to my dad. "Is he real?" I asked nervously. He chuckled. "No, he is a robot I made for you." Before I could respond, the little boy was squeezing me.
"Please be my friend!"
And that was how I got A.I.R.O.
A.I.R.O. was now my servant. Only, he didn't feel like one. Mysteriously, I ignored the fact he was a robot. He was fun to play with, he knew every game I knew, and he agreed with me that any food that was green was nasty, not including green icing on a cake and candy. He'd often fall asleep in my room, and we would stay up late into the night, making every day a sleepover. The same went for as we got older.
You're about to learn about the more recent events, but you may share them with no one.
Or else, you have to be… removed.
Sun streamed in thru the window into my room as my alarm sounded. I sat up, yawned, and then turned off the alarm. Laying back in bed, I turned on my side so that I could face the wall.
My nose was inches away from A.I.R.O's nose.
I screeched in horror, falling out of the bed. A.I.R.O. screamed as well, pushing himself against the wall, pulling the blankets up to his chin. His jet black hair was tousled into curls, eyes wide in terror and embarrassment. I stood up, the sleeve of my t-shirt slipping down to my elbow. I yelped, "Why are you in here?"
"We were listening to music and I fell asleep, remember?" He answered, hiding behind my covers. I sighed, then whispered in a low voice, "Get out. I need to get ready." A.I.R.O. nodded, then went to his room. I closed the door, then pressed the button on my wall, and watched as my room was sucked up and was transformed into a bathroom and closet. I quickly showered and dressed, brushed my hair and teeth, snatched my satchel and turned my room back to normal before leaving.
In the hall, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. My light brown hair was wavy, showing of my warm honey eyes. My chin was shaped like an upside down triangle, and my cheek bones were well sculpted. I admired myself for a moment, then continued my rush downstairs.
A.I.R.O. had beaten me, and sat across the table from my dad, who sipped is coffee as he skimmed thru the morning paper. His own light brown hair was slightly curled at the ends, and his jade green eyes scanned the news. I gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, then sat next to A.I.R.O. on the barstool next to his. The cook rolled up to our island, carrying an oversized tray. Like A.I.R.O., the cook and other staff looked very much human. The cook was lean and tall with gray hair that was neatly combed back and had gray eyes.
My father sat up straight as he said quickly, "Looks delicious, thank you so much." A.I.R.O. and I mumbled our thanks as we began to pick at our cinnamon rolls. Within minutes, we had eaten everything on the plate. I stood up, grabbed my dishes, then walked to the sink. Turning in his stool, my father called, "The drones will take care of that."
I continued to wash my dish. "They shouldn't have to do the simple things we can do. They work hard enough."
My father paused, then chuckled. "Just like your mother, never did the mean thing." He glanced at his watch. "Better get a move on, you two." A.I.R.O nodded, and I inspected him.
His hair was, as I mentioned, jet black, so black that if he stood alone in the middle of a starry night you would have expected star dust to be tangled in his hair. His sapphire blue eyes were very mystical, like something that marked a bottomless soul. Like me, his nose and cheeks were very well sculpted, and his body was average size, muscles bulging slightly form is arms.
I snatched his arm and began walking away.
"Love you, Dad!" I shouted as I dragged my victim, who struggled helplessly.
"Bye!" He called as the door slammed shut.
I didn't let him go until we reached the end of the street. A.I.R.O. glared at me playfully.
"Meanie!" He whined.
"Don't make me get meaner!" I retorted.
That was our conversation as we bickered our way to the building of our demise, the thorn in our side, the end of the world;