Page 22 of Everdoll

Where’s my soul? What is me?

This feeling of longing quickly faded when the filter of admiration in my eyes disappeared day by day. My mother and father were despicable, and I didn’t want to be associated with them.

That was the last time my family ever managed to horrify me. After that, I stopped reacting to any of it. Like an empty shell, I silently accepted being my family’s valuable discovery.

I was their absolute power. Their forever.

I couldn’t tell whether my soul had surrendered to this so-called “power,” or whether this cold detachment was my way of rejecting it.

All I knew was that there was a void inside me.

Perhaps it was because I’d been abandoned since birth, but I yearned for something to devote myself to.

To be addicted… To belong… Something I can’t live without.

I wanted a place, a thing, or someone. Just like other people. I failed to understand what it meant to be someone’s own son, so I would try other things. Maybe find a place suitable for myself and fill the void within me.

I was blinded by thirst; that was all I could see.

“I want a family,” I said calmly. We were having a family dinner, so the setting was absurd and meaningless for such a statement.

My mother gave a scoff, my father did nothing. I tried to speak in their language.

“Send me to other families. To observe. I want to understand human relationships better. Through direct, firsthand experience.”

“Peculiar idea.” The short answer came from my father. My mother agreed, nodding.

“I… I just want to be of use. To help people. Are you really going to stop me?”

It was a known truth that my parents would sacrifice their only child for the sake of the collective, and I knew it better than anyone. As I expected, my words changed their expressions. My father let out a quiet sigh.

“If that’s really what you want, I’ll speak to my assistant. What kind of families do you want?”

I had, of course, thought about this. “Families with abused children.”

“So that’s what you meant by helping! Look at our little Ray, darling! Already trying to become the hero of Mars!”

They laughed among themselves. I glared at them with disgust as that deafening void filled my ears again. Only I could hear the melody, driven by the need to chase it. Screw Mars. Screw parents. All of them.

“But I have one condition.”

My parents stopped laughing, sensing the sudden shift in my tone.

“Tell them I’m a robot. A caretaker, an assistant—whatever fits the profile.”

My father’s brows shot up, amused. “And why is that?”

“I don’t want them hovering over me all the time. It’s just a headache,” I said, my tone steady. “But people ignore robots. They’re honest around them. If I’m going to find what I’m looking for, I need to see them vulnerable. They should think no one is watching.”

This response caused a moment of silence at the table. For the first time, I caught an emotion on my parents’ faces I’d never seen before.

Fear.

I couldn’t make sense of it. After all, my desire served a perfectly innocent purpose. I wanted the children to understand me. I needed to fill the void in my soul, to belong somewhere. There was no other reason.

But the moment I stepped into the first family’s house, I realized something about myself.

There was indeed more. I wanted to destroy.