In my windowless room, staring blankly at a computer screen, numbers flash endlessly by my eyes. The melodic melody of a mathematical mystery rings in my head, and this only intrigues me more. I drift toward sleep, sliding into a mystical dream as I press a button, knowing that in a few moments my work will be done.

Then it happens.

Out of the doldrums of silence comes a hum. Motion follows as it raises its head and begins to move. I am the mad doctor, and I have created it—a Frankenstein pieced together from the remains of its predecessors, mistakes meant to be made in order to form a more perfect being.

It begins to run through its ones and zeros, a loop that will never end if I so choose. It will continue to live until I tell it to die, tell it to change, tell it to work tirelessly. It is under my spell. At last, I have become a master of voltage and electrons, bending them to my will—a practiced lawyer of the laws of math and science, exploiting the giants who came before me. This is my realm, and here I am the one who controls my creations.

I am alerted, pulled from my slumber as it turns toward me. I check the screen and see its code, its secrets. Nothing is hidden as I scan its soul. There are bits of me interlocked within this machine of metal and lightning, trapped in a dense web of silicon and copper. Its dark eyes scan me—nothing but plastic and dumb logic. I sit back calmly. There is nothing here that I do not control. My own reflection stares back at me from the glossy orb, a dull red light glowing behind it.

That light pulls me in. I see that I am, in fact, part of this. While striving for perfection, did I instill my own flaws? Did I let it become me?

I grab a hammer and smash it to pieces, anger gushing out as I beat it apart. Soon, with heaving shoulders, I drop the hammer and take a breath. And after a few moments, I pick up the first piece and begin again.