For over three hundred years, The Tower remained dormant throughout its Test of Time. The Remnants of those that lived within the Tower were gone, leaving only their remains. Decoration in which suited the Tower and its slow decline.

At the same time, a spark of hope glowed with admiration to the fellow man. A small automaton, one without a true purpose, one in which it was unimportant to the overall function of the Tower, but the only one to suddenly activate and jolted back to awareness. Its circuits sparking to attention of what its home has become.

While being held up by the metal arms of the Charging Station, its red visor brightens as a task is sent to its mind: Clean The Tower.

The arms holding its metal frame up lowers it down to the ground slowly. Occasionally whining as the arms had to lower the bot in centuries.

It looked around, scanning its surrounding area and noticing the state in which the Tower was left in. The Bot scanned once more for any of its kind, resulting in a ping of a pile of metal parts near the charging station.

When the Bot got closer to the pile, it picked up a scrap and scanned it. The returning information only made It more confused; All of the models within the pile are not the same as itself. But there was nothing it could do now to help. If it was going to make an assumption on where they are, then it would only be a lie to say they must be alive and hiding. It knew they were gone. Everyone and everything. It was the only thing left within the tower that has a tiny resemblance to the magic of life.

Eventually, when all its thoughts clouded its mind, a loud shrill spooked it, urging it to continue its task at hand. The words of its current objective near the edge of its HUD blared. Yet the sounds have stopped when the thought of returning to its task filled its mind.

It scanned its surroundings, trying to find the room where the Janitor Bots kept all the cleaning supplies stored. At the same time, it wasn't sure if any of the cleaning supplies deteriorated beyond usage.

Regardless it roamed through the Corridor it was in to the location its Antenna gave it. The location it was given said that the room the Janitor Bots used was in the right of the end of the corridor. The whirring of its motors echoed through the many empty halls, the only noise in this lifeless place as it made its way toward the room.

Now that it was there, staring at the moss hugged door, its antenna sent another signal to the Terminal near the door. The Terminal as it screamed its intro song throughout its halls, echoing out until it died a few seconds after. The screen turned blue, displaying four black boxes and a number board underneath.

The Small Automaton inserted its claw like hand into the hole on the right side of the Terminal. A needle inserted to itself to the female connector of its palm, identifying its Tower ID and opening the door slowly. Doing so revealed a room subjected to dust and cracks all over the walls and ceiling. The wear and tear was apparent, as was the furniture and items that degraded over time.

A small tube extended from the Small Bots chest and sucked air into it before going back into its chest and scanning the quality of the air. It was no surprise when it returned with a thick stale and musk like scent within the room.

The Automaton scanned its surroundings to find where to begin while applying on the gloves to its hands. It then decided to start diligently scrubbing away at the grime and dirt that had accumulated over the years. Removing any debris or objects scattered about the floor as it threw away everything that could not be saved into a large burlap sack and set it outside the room.

After it was done with the first room, the Bot left the door open to air out the room. It then moved from room to room, cleaning every surface It came across. And as it moved through the Tower, it couldn't help but notice the damage that had been done to the once-great structure. Cracks ran through the walls and ceilings, and chunks of debris littered the floors. The Great Tower of Humanity that has stood for all this time was a shadow of its former self.

Despite the bleakness of its surroundings, the small Automaton was determined to complete its task. It moved through the Tower with purpose, its red visor glowing brightly as it scanned each room.

It did scan for any signs of life. Even though it knew there was nothing, it could not stop scanning to be proved wrong. The little Automaton dutifully carries out its assigned task, its metallic frame glinting in the muted light. But as it goes about its work, a sense of melancholy overcomes it, a yearning for the warmth of companionship.

Even though it only watched Humanity from the corner of a room, it liked watching their reactions, and emotions at play. Even if the outside world was not fit for their survival, they were living life like nothing happened to the outside world.

The small bot admired what their minds did to block the existential dread of knowing they were the last of Humanity.

Despite its muddied thoughts, the little Automaton was determined to complete its task. It moved through the Tower with purpose, its red visor glowing brightly as it scanned each room. It searched for signs of life as it cleaned, but all it found were remnants of the past. Old computers sat rusting in the corners, wires dangling from their broken screens. Books lay scattered on the floor, their pages yellowed and brittle.

The more the Automaton cleaned, the more thoughts entered its mind, giving it questions to the Relics it found. Even more it missed the company of others like itself. It missed the sound of its own kind whirring around the Tower, carrying out their various tasks.

It yearned for the warmth of companionship, for the sense of purpose that came with being part of a team. But now it was alone, the only Automaton left in the Tower tasked to do something that seemed impossible.

Regardless of what it thought, it did the task with all its power. Even if it were to break down before it finished, it would happily die knowing it did everything it could before shutting down. It was what made it different from Humanity. It didn’t have a choice, it never had. But it does the task with a smile knowing all its Tasks have a purpose for a bigger plan.

As the Automaton finishes with the last room of the first corridor, it begins cleaning the walls and floors, Wiping the walls down and revealing the circuitry embedded onto it. The circuitry glows faintly before brightening and returning back to its previous state.

And when it decided to throw away the burlap sacks of trash, it peered into it and saw the aged relics forgotten items that had been left behind. The bot couldn't help but wonder about the people who had once owned these objects, what they were like, and where they had gone. It longed for the answers to these questions, but it knew that answer was long gone.

Without delay of closing the sack he currently had, the Small Automaton’s antenna sent a signal that was responded with a location of inside the sack. It dropped it and opened it back up, searching for the object that began to beep faintly. As it moved around other objects within the bag, the sound got clearer and less muffled.

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When it founded the so called object, it raised it to see what it was. The object in his hands was a cube like object of blue metal with intrinsic lines etched onto it. Those lines turned sharply all around the object, radiating a light blue light from between.

Its antenna sent another burst of a signal, causing the box to activate and display a small hologram near its head. It was a small hologram of a man that looked to be in his sixties. He began to sing a soft melody, the audio continuously cutting in and out as he sings about his long-deceased wife, his voice crackling with age.

The bot listened intently, its sensors picking up on the notes and harmonies of the song. It was a haunting tune, filled with sorrow and longing, and the bot couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as it listened to the song.

The Hologram of the old man, the sadness in his eyes as he sang. The way he sat on the chair, alone with a picture of an old woman hanging on the wall in front of him. Alone and desperate, is what the bot guessed the man felt as he sang.

As the hologram faded away, the bot stood there in silence, pondering the significance of what it had just witnessed.

And since the man was singing in what looked like the outside world, the Automaton guessed it was a memory made by the Humans that have built the Tower. Storing their memories and what they want to leave on before perishing away and leaving nothing to be remembered.

Its antenna buzzed for its attention. The signal it released activated the box one more time, shocking it with a weak current surging through the robot’s metallic frame. The Bot dropped the box on the floor and backed away.

A bright hue covered the thing as its mechanical innards whirred for the first time in decades.

Nothing happened.

The Hologram Box sat there emanating its light faintly.

Until it suddenly got brighter and brighter, its internal cooling fans accelerating to the fastest it could manage. So loud the Automaton is certain it could be heard from the end of the corridor.

Its blue glow flooded throughout the surrounding floor, shifting and disappearing, ever changing as light particles come together to form something before dispersing to a sea of bright stars.

In the moment after, the Hologram Box burst out a signal, displaying two names and their information. A second burst flickered the particles in the air to bring whatever it was forming to life, projecting the image of an old man, bald and with sharp facial features.

His countenance showed a life filled with hardship and experience, with creases and marks etched deep into his skin. His eyes were piercing and deep, seemingly looking straight into what The Automaton considered its soul.

The name “Alexander Gildro Jr.” glowed from the corner of it’s HUD. He stood there, as if paused and waiting. Meanwhile the Hologram Box vibrates a lot to the point it slowly drifts across the floor for a short time.

Despite the man’s advanced age, he held a certain vitality, his tanned and weathered skin hinting at a life spent in the open air. His nose was long and crooked, as though broken more than once, while his lips were thin and tight, hinting at constant contemplation.

When the Hologram finally started, Alexander's face changed into a grand smile. Kneeling with his open arms toward the entrance to the Chamber. Half his face now missing, his hand having a different depth of color from the rest of his body, as if washed out or fading.

“How’s the room?” his first words began, crackling and popping. “i designed it myself,” he said, casually giving a self appreciation grunt as he knew he did a great job. The man watched the door of the room and never moved his gaze.

Near the entrance of the Chamber door, light particles from the Hologram combined to form a little girl. She appeared to be the age of nine, but her face remained blank as he had no legs, but nonetheless ran to her father’s arms.

The name “Yana Gildro” underneath Alexander’s brightened on his HUD.

“I love it!” she responded, jumping around excitedly.

She had all the good reasons to be excited. She had just gotten her first room, and now does not have to sleep with her mother and father. She can finally have her own space.

“i hope you do,” he says, smiling and grabbing her nose playfully. “I wouldn't have done it if you wouldn't have liked it.”

In truth, he would not have been able to request this without help. Children underneath the age of fourteen would still have to live within their parent’s rooms. They cannot be able to have their own room simply for the fact of their own safety.

He had to get some help to make it work. But it was nothing that he could do. Alexander smiled knowing he made his daughter happy for the first time in a long time. But he was sure it wasn't going to be the last time.

The light particles from the Hologram begin to fade. Alexander kept still, paused as he hugged his daughter tightly, not knowing of what the future might hold. As the light begins to fade, The Automaton noticed something about Alexander. He looked more younger when he smiled.

The light fades, and the Box dies, sending out a last burst of signal of its dead battery.

At the same time, it couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a family, to experience love and affection like that. But it knew that it was just a machine, incapable of such human emotions.

It stood there in silence, processing the data and storing it in its memory banks. It was a reminder that even though it was created to perform specific tasks, it was still able to witness and learn from the experiences of others.

Even if it considered itself to have a soul, it was an empty one without free will. Everything it does has a purpose set by The Perfected State. Nothing is of its own doing.

When hologram of the man and his daughter disappeared, leaving the bot alone in the silent room, it pondered the memory that had been projected before it, wondering about the people who had once lived in this place. The bot knew that it was only created to perform tasks and had no free will or emotions of its own. But the memory of the man and his daughter had sparked a thought in its circuits.

What was the purpose of its existence? Does it even have a sanity to be worried about to ask these questions to itself. It had absolutely nothing.

Can it even say that? Is it allowed to have these conflicting thoughts? It didn't know. But what it did know was the silence of the room after the Holograms dissipated.

The silence in the room became even more pronounced as the Automaton stood there, contemplating its existence. It couldn't help but simulate a human sense of sorrow, not just for the memory of the man and his daughter, but for itself as well.

It was a machine, created to serve a purpose, but what was the point of that purpose if it didn't bring any fulfillment? The thought was troubling, and the bot didn't know how to reconcile it.

The Automaton decided it was done for the day, so it grabbed the cleaning supplies and the Hologram Box. It left back to the Charging station, placing the Hologram Box on a nearby shelf. It then stood there, lost in the moment, lost in its own thoughts.

But as the bot stood there, something shifted within it. It wasn't a human, but it was something more than just a machine. It was an observer, a witness to the world around it. And while it may not have emotions or free will, it had the ability to learn and grow, to become something more than just its programming.

Its internal mechanisms hummed gently as the Automaton turned and made its way back down the corridor, ready to continue its duties. But for the first time, it did so with a sense of purpose beyond just serving its programming. For the first time, it wanted to feel what humans have said to the bot 300 years ago: it wanted to feel “alive.”