Machines- the best invention humanity has stumbled upon yet. They're Autonomous, Untiring, and Precise.

What could be considered an equation that would take hours to solve was done in quick succession thanks to their aid. Heavy objects that could easily break the spines of men is lifted and moved with relative ease, skyscrapers that stood tall over horizons could now be built left and right and constructed in paces that would put those who once built castles to shame.

All of that thanks to a simple time in history that kickstarted everything and made this all possible-

"The industrial revolution was one hell of a time wasn't it?" An adult beside me asked, not caring about the supposedly foul language he speaks in front of a 12 year old child. The man was looking at a book, which he most likely borrowed from a library just a few stops back.

When he looked at his hand, the book was only opened at page 3, upon seeing this, the child scoffed, "indeed," he said. Hiding his disgust towards such an imprudent man, the thought of him thinking that something is wild when he merely opened the first three pages of a book was very infuriating for him.

But, self awareness struck him. There it goes again,.. he thought. The child took a deep breath to calm himself, one of his more freeier classmates had told him that what he is doing is gatekeeping. And that people can enjoy the things they like on their own pace, and with their personal perspective. An idiot to be sure, but his words do hold meaning. And of course he realized that, and understood what his classmate was trying to convey. And besides, he wasn't really a hypocrite, because well, he is smart enough to be self aware of his own actions, something those apes, do not have.

That piece of shit should look in the mirror before he calls me out about the fact that I somehow "gatekeep" when he himself laughs and mocks those who have fun on something that cannot enjoy.

"Hypocrite." The boy murmured. Knowing what is right and what is wrong should have been the very basic morals and virtue the natural human intellect has given them. And yet, so far, nothing.

He goes to a prestigious school, in fact, it is one of the very best the world has to offer. Add on the fact that he belongs on one of the more better classes- and it will give you a scenario: one where you should have expected those around you to atleast, have the same wavelength as you. But somehow, some of his classmates just don't get it, it is wasteful to think and formulate an opinion when you have just started on a topic you know nothing about.

It is subtle, but it is a sign of the dunning krueger effect. And despite everything he has accomplished, his classmates simply don't want to acknowledge his intellect, stating that just because he is smart- does not mean that he holds the right on what they should, and should not know.

"Idiots, the likes of them" the boy muttered.

What do they know? All his life he has been guided to follow this path, and so far, it had worked in the most amazing way possible. Perhaps, there are other, more effecient methods out there, but he got to where he is now due to the predetermined path he walked and followed, should he find a better one, then he will discuss it with his parents and see where it goes from there.

"Ya said something kid?" The loon currently reading the book about industrialization asked him,

The boy looked at the man, doing his best to hide the disgust he felt everytime he did. The man sported a full military outfit: a leather a vest with a white shirt beneath it at the top, and camo pants at the bottom. A beaming smile was forming in his face, somehow splitting his beard and showcasing the bread and cracker crumbs that littered it, with the old man showing no signs of cleaning them anytime soon.

"Nothing sir," he said, mustering a smile.

The bus soon came to a halt, they were at his stop. So the boy quickly stepped out with the goal of shopping inside a nearby convenience store to buy food and supplies.

After he was done, the boy headed home. Dim sunlight hitting his back.

On his way home, he passed by a construction site. Time sure flies huh? That place was an open plot of land just a few weeks ago. He thought, before getting reminded by a bitter memory that entered his head.

It was a week ago, the usual happens, it's the weekend and the boy goes home from school alone to restock the supplies on his workshop. The people who takes a seat beside him are usually pretty calm. But at that time, a rather eccentric businessman started talking to him, the conversation started out pretty calm, albeit a little one-sided. The businessman talked non-stop about how his life is shit and how the boy was the luckiest person on the world.

Eventually, the conversation got led to where the man used his finger to point at something, just a simple car. A machine, and said- "are you any different from that?" He asked, "or this?" He said, pointing at his phone that opened the calculator app.

It didn't really sprout anything from him back then, but perhaps his subconscious thought differently.

He shook his head, such thoughts shouldn't even bother him, let alone get stuck on his head. And yet, like some vermin, the thoughts always come back. Whether he liked it or not.

The sound of tools attracted the boy's attention, "of course I'm different from them, I'm concious, and they're not." He assured himself,

Having found a ledge to grab on, the boy continued "Right, right!" His deep, hoarse voice now had a higher pitch. Under stress, he unkowingly clenched his hands to form a fist.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"I also have the right to pick on whether or not I'll reproduce! Something that most creatures at the top of the food chain don't have a choice on! Yes, that's right... I have the choice on whether my genes get passed on or not, even if I'm obviously superior and have no trouble finding a mate. It is my choice to make mate bear my child." The boy nodded to himself, satisfied. Some might consider such a thing shouldn't be said by children, but to him, based on what he has learned- making offspring is merely the way, and the purpose at the end of one's life. And the sheer fact that he had control of that- the most basic instinct and the very purpose of a living organism, was proof enough of his difference from the non-organic moving items that surround and help him on his day to day life.

When he finally was able to breath fresh air, his head became clear, and a realization made the words of the same man once again echo inside his head, "but you always follow the will of others... what makes you different from machines...? You are smart, effecient even, and yet... you're so... naive." It mocked,

"But... I have a will of my own,.." the boy exclaimed, horrified.

He knew that what he had just said were reasons so that he could escape the mockery of self loathing and personal deprecation. He knew that... he is smart enough to do so, because afterall, he is a prodigy. And clearly, that man isn't even near the level he is at. The boy needed to stoop extremely low from where his standing at before he even gets the chance to have the same job as that parasite.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm a prodigy," tears in his eyes, the boy ran and ran, to the only place that gave him comfort- his workshop.

When his alone there, working, he always felt happy, fine, and comfortable. Hell, ecstatic even! And whenever he finished his work- his world changing inventions, he feels like he soars through the open sky, and at that point, he is the happiest he could ever possibly be.

So, he continued to run as fast as he could. No longer able to hold back his desire to work. His desire to escape reality, to go to the realm of machinery, to go back home. To his world. A world, that belonged to him, and only him. For if someone tries to even read his schematics, they are unable to understand them. For they, came from his mind. A mind that is entirely unique to him, and him alone.

But alas, the boy's greatest escape, was his heaviest burden. A burden that shackled him, a burden that has no intentions of letting him go.

For all his life, this is the only thing he knew. And possibly, if things continue, ever will.

The peer pressure of talent over his shoulders never let him stood tall, always forcing him to look at the ground. Unable to broaden his horizons.

Despite his natural intellect, the boy isn't old enough to have the wisdom to tell himself that, "perhaps, I am harming myself with my very own actions" it will take some time, simply because he is forced and shackled by others to use his talents. And he obliges, for it is the only thing he knows.

His world is small, to the point that a small sliver of cleanliness in all this poison is enough to give him comfort. "My achievements are enough," are the words he always tells himself each night.

He still suffers because despite his unnaturally smart brain, he is only human. Albeit, an extremely talented one.

One, that was not raised, loved, nor cared for. But trained and enslaved.

He has no freedom. And perhaps he cannot escape, even if the chains that bind him are metaphorical, for he is only human.

The sun has set, and darkness had started to take over the surrounding area,

By this time, the boy was home. Comfortable, but with the occasional hiccups of a child that had been done crying a few minutes ago.

When he opened the door of his house- as always, the boy was greeted by a living room where Trophies, Medals, and PHDs were numerous enough to act as decoration. And each and every single one was achieved by, given to, and has been rewarded to his parents and siblings.

Five cabinets filled to the brim with trophies were lined up next to the walls of the room, they all stood tall and proud, letting the world see the achievements of their owners.

And his cabinet was located at the utmost east.

Rewards for creating beautiful music, revitalizing the steam industry, and creating the world's very first Anti aging pills were seen there. And those were only a small part, albeit notable portion of his achievements.

The sight gave him comfort, enough for the words "these are all I'll ever need, and nothing more" to come out of his mouth

Going down the basement, and into his workshop. The boy placed everything he bought into their respective places inside his personal mini fridge. Snacks, cereals, cans of food full of nutrients and bread. Are all included In case he once again, never leaves this place over the course of the weekend.

Once done, he inspected the room, everything was well organized. Tools were placed and hung on the west walls, while materials and supplies like gas tanks were located opposite to them.

He nodded, and walked over to his workbench, eager to finish his latest project- A powersuit, something that he had always wanted to make. And has designed, made plans , and bought materials for over the last few months.

"Another 3 years and I'll finish you." He said to the piece that was placed at the table.

A 1 meter calf of his future power armor lay there, fully encompassing the entire space, the limb was hollow with wires and circuitry all around it.

He slid his hand across it's smooth surface, "I hope to one day, make wars different with you, my soon to be latest invention." He said affectionately, which, sadly unbeknownst to him, his words had also created a small spark on the bridge across dimensions, before it finally erupted into a cacophony of ear piercing yet, beautiful sounds and a myriad of beautiful colors.

The boy, oblivious to what he had just done, got out of his workplace to get a change of clothes that isn't his uniform.

A few minutes later, he came back, wearing thin linen clothing that did not mind nor have problems on absorbing sweat.

When he entered, the boy felt a small tug on his conciousness. Mistaking it as excitement, he took a few more steps to grab his toolbelt,

After 5 steps in the right direction, if before the feeling was merely a passing tug, maybe something similar to a breeze brushing across his pale skin- became a headache that made him clutch and grab unto his red hair.

Soon, the pain became severe enough that it made him go into a fetal position on the ground, rocking himself back and forth continuously.

Zack Fuebe felt something similar to an elevator lifting him up, and not long after that- the pain subsided along with the cold that always accompanied his workshop. And despite his obvious stress, sweat didn't form nor accumulate on his body. He was as dry as a leaf that has been left alone for days on end on the surface of the sahara desert.

Speaking of deserts, if he didn't sweat before, then he might as well start now. The temperature became hot. Like fire had been lit for hours inside an enclosed area, trapping all the heat to the point that it can easily give humans heatstrokes.

"Were my nerves burned? And I'm just feeling the after effects of that migraine now or..." he muttered curiously, and bullshit was the conclusion that he came to.

Burned nerves? Really? I mean, I could still feel the cold and hard,.. ground?

He moved his arms just in case he was mistaken,

And yep, what he was laying on felt like rough stone.

From that, he concluded that him currently having a 100 degree fever was the most likely explanation, given the fact that he was so weak to the point that he could no longer feel the softness of the carpet. Oh and also, an indescribable headache rang his head a few seconds prior.

"That old man was disease ridden... I knew it."

With a new found resentment for homeless people, Zack started to open his eyes, eager to get this fever over with.