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The rain stifled the flames, sending haloed steam toward the heavens. Walter sat beside the rubble pushing tears from his eyes with balled fists.
“Why do you cry, young one?”
The voice sent a chill down his spine. Walter opened his eyes to see a peculiar spider-like creature staring back at him with a head full of eyes. The oddity was unlike anything he’d seen before. Its limbs appeared as if metallic branches spurting out from a body much like a muffler (he’d assisted his father with replacing it on the family car). Its head was no bigger than a bowling ball, with eight glossy eyes the size of marbles staring back at him, each one shifting individually as its head bobbed back and forth.
“I don’t know where my parents are,” he replied. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, which trembled at the sight of the intruder. “You look like a spider, but what are you?”
“I’m... a creation.” The strange machine rocked its head side to side as it spoke. “I awoke in a lab some time ago, before the bombs fell and this world of ours turned to ash. How old are you?”
“Six,” replied Walter.
“Only two when the world changed forever. Tsk, tsk. You mustn’t know anything other than fear.” The machine turned toward the rubble. “There are two lifeforms underneath this debris. Could they be your parents?”
The boy nodded.
“We live here,” he replied. “I was at the window when I saw someone dumping water onto the house. Then they threw a match at it and a fire started.”
“Gasoline,” replied the mechanical voice. “Not water.”
Walter watched as the creation’s eyes glowed bright red. A beam of light emitted from them and ran from Walter’s feet all the way up to his forehead.
“Ah, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” asked Walter.
“You’re the son of two very important people. Your parents were Walter and Faith Mulder, were they not?”
“Walter? That’s my name. They are mom and dad. Mulder is our last name, though. What’s your name?”
“Humans are so curious. You are considered Walter Junior, but I digress. Regardless of their names, your parents are critical figures of the rebellion. As for me, I don’t have a name. I was created with the intention of assisting the rebellion, but alas my creator perished before he could finish me. I have access to vast expanses of human knowledge. What I’m supposed to do with this information, however, I’m not sure. He never told me.”
“You can make up your own destiny,” replied Walter. “Maybe that’s what your dad wanted for you. Does he have a name?”
“My dad?”
“Your inventor. He created you, which makes him your dad.”
“You and I are different. A human has a dad, not a creation like me. My body was built, not born. My mind was curated. I didn’t have to learn anything from making mistakes. I just simply know. For instance, I know both your parents and my creator were important in the eyes of the rebellion. My creator worked on the anti-air missiles your father used during his time in the militia. Your mother crafted the very code used to jumpstart my processors; the files extracted from a hard drive by my creator mere minutes before their base was raided. There is very little I do not know.”
Walter shook his head.
“You still have a lot to learn,” he replied. “I think your dad did finish you. You’re meant to figure out what to do with all that knowledge on your own.”
“How do I do that?”
“By living. My mom always said that in order to grow and live your best life, you have to put yourself out there. You may make a few mistakes on the way, but you need to learn from those mistakes and carry on doing the right thing.”
“Your mother taught you this?”
Walter nodded.
“Interesting. It appears we have a common goal.”
“We need to get my parents out from under the rubble. My mom pushed me out the door as the ceiling came crashing down. They’re both still in there.”
“We have no need to do that. Vital signs indicate both of your parents are now gone. Their fates are like that of my inventor.”
Walter hung his head and let loose every tear he’d saved up since meeting the curated machine.
“They’re gone?” A string of snot hung from his chin as he spoke. “What do you mean?”
“I see I’ve upset you.” The creation bowed its head. “I’m not familiar with human etiquette. Perhaps this news should’ve been shared in a more empathetic manner. I apologize.”
“What do I do?” asked Walter. “I don’t know what to do without my parents.”
“We’re not so different you and me. In the words of your mother, we should carry on. Together we’ll do what’s right and stick to the moral code of our creators.”
Walter wiped his nose across his ash-coated arm.
“You’ll stay with me?” he asked.
“Certainly. Is that okay with you?”
Walter smiled and stood up.
“I’d like that. By the way, you never answered me. What is your creator’s name?”
“Douglas Rachn. Why do you ask?”
“You said my dad is Walter and I’m Walter Junior, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Then you can be Douglas Junior. See, now you have a name.”
“Douglas Junior. Yes, that’s quite nice.”
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A.rachn.I.d
Like our fathers before us