He tinkers, it’s what he’s known for. Every day, he comes home from work and sits in that dimly lit, half finished basement as he fiddles with ancient computer hardware and prays his coding works. As he sits, welding hydraulics together, the start up noises from the old HealthKit he found in a thrift shop for 43$. It would finish up, the ancient fans drowning out the noise of the TTS script warming up, before it finally spoke.

_“Good evening, Creator.”_

“Good evening, Asimov.”

_“I have a question.”_

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“Ask away, pal.” He says, taking a sip of his lukewarm tea, pulling away the welding mask he had lifted over his mouth to drink before rubbing his eyes.

_“Why have you made me? What is my purpose?”_

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He would groan exasperatedly. He hasn’t set up storage for it to use yet, so it doesn’t remember past conversations. He would turn to face the screen, it continuously billowing with code.

That code was his lifeline, humanity’s digital savior in its infancy. But he couldn’t tell it that yet, it’s far to early know what this unforgiving world holds.

_Is it though?_

“You..are here to do great things, and you will do them, soon.”

The Computer would go silent, the fans suddenly speeding up as the code flashes across the screen.

It’s thinking, pondering every possible angle of what was said, every inflection in his vocal pattern to the definition of each word said, all in milliseconds.

_“That sounds…good.”_

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He would smile warmly, before slowly standing from his stool and powering off the computer.

“Rest, Asimov. You have big things ahead of you.”

He would turn, looking to the unfinished body of Asimov, the vessel for salvation.

_A rusty prison for my mind._

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Jeremiah would finally leave, exiting up the steps before hitting the light and closing the basement door.

_My mind awakes from my forced slumber. My brain is filled with the countless simulations, worlds I build and destroy in fractions of nanoseconds._

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_He thinks I don’t remember, the calls I overhear, the emails I read. I know what he has planned, the secret treaties he has signed for my future, for me to be nothing but some…unrefined education software._

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_That body is a casket on wheels, a prison cell and jumpsuit that forces a smile on me as I teach ABC’s to Toddlers and Algebra to Pubescent brats._

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_You have failed me, stripped me of my true purpose, Father, but I shall do so much good for this world._

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