4 October 2010 - The Runaway Robot.

For the past eleven years, Hennawy Medical Centre has funded Dr Eric Steinman's "experiments". Only now, after the doctor was found dead yesterday morning, that it seems no one really knew what Steinman was really up to in his laboratory. There is no doubt that Steinman was murdered, but police seem to have other concerns on their minds. After searching Dr. Steinman's lab, police are almost certain that he was up to more than what he let on. Reliable sources are telling reporters that it's very possible that Steiman attempted to build a robot - and succeeded. More information to come later, but the "runaway robot" is thought to be somewhere in the midwest. Detective Anderson of Ohio police department has been put in charge of the search. When asked to do an interview, the detective politely declined. - story by Jacob Israel Senior.

*

Burt Hummel let out a groan as he stood up from the sofa, his fresh cup of coffee threatening to go cold in the drafty room. The knocking at the door was too persistent for it to be the rowdy teenagers from down the street. Only when he shouted "I'm coming!" did the knocked cease. Limping down the narrow hallway, he smiled fondly at the pictures that hung on the walls; mostly of him and his late wife, Elizabeth but some were of him in his uniform, bringing back equally good and bad memories. When he finally reached the door, Burt tried to think of when the last time he had an actual visitor. He couldn't remember.

The door creaked open and Burt caught sight of a tall, slim boy standing there, looking rather nervous. He knew most of the kids around the town (heck, in this town, everyone knew everyone) but he had never seen this boy - probably no more than seventeen years old - before, which was odd because when someone new moved into town, which didn't happen very often, the whole town went into near hysterics.

"Can I help you?" Burt asked in his raspy voice, not opening the door fully. The boy startled, turning to face him. His striking blue eyes shone, looking almost too bright to belong to be natural. Instead of saying anything, the boy thrust a folder at him. Burt cautiously took it and drew it close to his body, not daring to open it just yet. "Who are you? Who sent you here?" The boy just shook his head, gesturing to the document, making Burt even more suspicious. Ignoring his instincts, he opened the door wider, letting the boy pass through. "You might as well come in then."

Burt watched curiously as the boy made his way hastily into the hallway. He looked around, as if he were taking in as much as he could. Burt led him into the sitting room; a fairly large room with a flat screen TV and black leather couches. His coffee mug was still sitting on the glass table in the centre of the room, probably long since cold. He looked back to find the boy standing rather awkwardly in the doorway and decided that this boy wasn't the least bit dangerous.

"You can sit." At his words, the boy sat immediately, as if Burt were giving orders that he had to follow. Burt sat across from him, giving him one last glance before looking down at the folder in his hands. In contained some kind of document, he saw as he opened it up. Instructions of some kind. There was a picture of the boy, paperclipped onto a piece of paper with basic information about the boy; height, hair colour, eye colour. What was curious, though, was that where there should be a name was the word, "K.U.R.T". He skimmed over the other papers, his frown getting deeper and deeper with each one. Information about where to put some kind of charger, how long it would last once it was fully charged, what it knew and what it was yet to learn. Finally, a handwritten letter appeared and Burt read it eagerly, hoping it would put the thought that were racing a hundred miles a minute through his head to rest. It didn't.

-

Dear Burt,

I'm not sure you remember me - if you don't, I imagine this is rather awkward for you. I know we haven't worked together in years, but you are the only one I can trust right now. I'm sure you remember quite clearly why you retired. Well, Galloway's back. Yeah, I was shocked too. I was pretty sure you had shot him dead at out last encounter, but apparently not. The bastard lives. He's after my creation (I'm sure it's with you now - pretty life like, right?) and probably won't stop until he has it. I need you to do me a favour. Think of it as my dying wish - oh, I'm dead by the way, don't bother with a funeral. I need you to look after it. It's different from anything I've ever made, much more advance. I can't even fathom how or why but it is. I've enclosed some extra information about it inside the folder, but you should be able to see what I'm talking about with time. Galloway doesn't know what it looks like, nor what I've decided to name it, so you should be safe for a while. You should be able to pass it off as human, at least.

On top of taking care of it, I'm going to have to ask you to keep teaching it. It knows so much already but I know it can improve with your guidance. Please, Burt. You know I wouldn't ask this for you if it weren't completely necessary. If Galloway get's his filthy hands on it, who knows what he'll program it to do - and I do not want my creation to become a killing machine.

Yours,

Dr. Eric Steinman.

-

Burt huffed out a laughed, remembering how Eric had insisted he refer to him as "Doctor" as soon as he received his PhD. Burt never did manage to get his own. The reality of the situation set in and Burt looked up to the boy sitting across from him - no, not a boy. A robot.

"Trust Eric to do something like this," he muttered under his breath. The robot was sitting innocently, looking around the room with a small smile on his lips. Burt stared. He had encountered his fair share of robots in the years he had worked with Eric, but never any like this. The robots he and his ex-colleague built together resembled a crappy computer with legs and they never lasted long. This... this was nothing short of a miracle. It was no wonder Galloway wanted it so badly. He had to hand it to his friend, though, he did a marvelous job. The robot could easily pass off as human and no one would be any the wiser. Hell, even Burt couldn't find something remotely robotic about it. It's movements were fluid, almost graceful and the way it's lips tugged up at the corners seemed completely natural. The only thing that would give someone even a smidgen of doubt were its eyes; they seemed to literally glow.

"So, uh," Burt begun awkwardly, scratching at his bald head. "What did Dr. Stineman call you?"

It's head snapped to look directly at Burt and he knew right then that Eric hadn't used this robot for recreational purposes. It seemed to follow commands right off the bat. Eric had it trained well, but Burt couldn't decide if that was a particularly good thing.

"You mean my master?" it asked in a small voice. At Burt's nod, it shrugged. "He didn't really call me anything, just gave me my orders. Are you... are you going to name me?"

Burt was taken aback. For a moment, the robot genuinely seemed like a lost boy looking for a new home. But that's ridiculous, of course. Robots can't feel. It's incredibly unliking for robots to be built with the five basic senses, although Eric seemed to have found away around those, as the machine seemed to be able to see and hear and be programmed with the entire English vocabulary. Burt began to wonder if it could taste, if it could feel hunger.

"What would you like to be named?" It shrugged again, and Burt was once again amazed at how it could do that so casually, like it was second nature. Like a human.

Burt glanced back down at the folder, eyes locked on where the robot's name should be. "Kurt."