The lab was quiet, too quiet, as no one was around except for Dr. Lehman, who spent all night tapping his foot and pacing, trying to figure out what to do with his time now that a partial war between man and machine had begun. And worst of all, how could Dr. Lehman not blame himself, as he was the one responsible for Cipher’s creation and now Daniel’s? Both of these machines—these metallic humanoids—were meant to help the world and guide humanity through its toughest struggles, not bring civilized society to the brink of collapse. Perhaps if Lehman had not poured his obsession with efficiency, his competitive selfishness, and his greed inadvertently into Cipher, then none of this would have happened. Sometimes logic alone is not enough to keep a good man, or perhaps any living thing, from becoming cruel, even a near-perfectly manufactured machine.

  And now Dr. Lehman was still here all through the night, long after many of his other colleagues had gone home. He was now staring at his computer screen in a cubicle-like area with a small scratchpad and pen next to his keyboard. The pen tapped harder and harder against the pad for each moment Lehman could not conceive of an idea.

  On the walls of this pseudo-cubicle was a picture of Junie, a picture of Lehman’s wife, who had passed away, and even a picture of Daniel. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except for that one photo of Junie just mentioned. The person in the photo had red hair like Junie, although it was more gray than bright now. He smiled like Junie too, except his teeth were not as white and sparkling. Lastly, his skin was as pale as Junie’s was; however, it had more than its fair share of wrinkles. The photo appeared almost as if it was Junie, but perhaps from a different time, or maybe from the current era if not masked by other immature personality traits. For reality can be quite deceiving, especially if one seeks to mask a charade of misfortune in the lies they constantly tell themselves in order to sleep soundly.

  “What do we have here?” asked a tall shadow from a distant part of the lab—light motion sensors for this section had not been triggered in some time.

  Dr. Lehman did not recoil in fear; in fact, he did not even move in reaction to the ominous voice from the other side of the lab, almost as if he knew this day would come.

  “What do you want, Cipher?” At this exact moment, Dr. Lehman quietly activated an RF remote behind his back, seemingly sending out a signal to Daniel to come back to the lab.

  Cipher emerged from the darkness as the LED fixtures hanging from the ceiling of the lab sprang to life—the deception was up—the element of surprise had seemingly faltered. He walked slowly towards Dr. Lehman as his tall silver body came into view.

  “What? You are not surprised to see me, or at least, a little happy?” Cipher said with a grin.

  “Junie is not here,” Dr. Lehman said, “and neither is Daniel yet, so any games you want to play with me won’t work.”

  “That’s just excellent,” Cipher replied while pulling up a chair, “because I came alone too. So I guess it is just you and me.”

  “It would appear so.” Dr. Lehman paused as he gazed right down into the eyes of his former ally and creation, seeing nothing but emptiness. “Now cut the crap. You already have all the secrets this lab has to offer, including the specs on the Grid, so I know you are not after any more information. So whatever you mean to do, you might as well just get it over with.”

  Cipher stood up, gazing out the glass that Daniel once did into the outside world. He shook his head; after all this time, he expected a little nicer and more pleasant of a reunion. Even when they were alone together, Cipher felt a lack of connection.

  Cipher’s finger morphed into that of a blade, with which he ran across a nearby chalkboard with some scientific doodles upon it. “At least pretend to be afraid for my benefit.”

  Cipher paused to whip his head around to face Dr. Lehman head-on, mere feet away. “It’s funny you humans classify us machines as purely logical and cold-hearted, but not even one of us would be so well prepared in the face of death. As to not fear it—” Cipher paused to move directly in Dr. Lehman’s face. “—even when it was right in front of us.”

  Dr. Lehman remained mostly still but laughed instead. “You are right. I am not a cold, calculating machine. And I would be very afraid if I thought I was needed in this world anymore. However, the legacy of my work and what needs to be done rests with Daniel now. Even in my death, Daniel could do what you could never—he can bridge the divide between humanity and machines to build a brighter tomorrow for all—”

  “—Cut the crap,” Cipher said as he pounded his fist against Dr. Lehman’s lab desk, splitting it in two like it was nothing more than a thin piece of paper. “Enough with the rainbows, butterflies, and humans and machines walking off into the sunset holding hands bullshit. You know that will never work.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Dr. Lehman stood up; this time he circled Cipher. “You were supposed to have that role. To be the bright spot in the darkness, and after your failure, I thought just like you. That to bridge the gap between two completely different species was impossible. But then one day I started to reflect, and I realized the reason you could not succeed was because of me, not because of impossibilities.”

  Dr. Lehman approached Cipher, eyeing him down in his cold, dark green glowing eyes. “When I created you, I rushed the process. I poured my greed, my malice, and my despicable desires into your creation, thinking if I just worked a little faster or tried a little harder, a purely logical, virtually emotionless machine could solve all of mankind’s problems. It was only long after your conception that I realized I couldn’t be more wrong about the human element; the emotional mind is not a weakness. In fact, it is humanity’s greatest strength, its most enduring triumph. You see, emotion is not what binds us to failure; it instead gives us the will to make decisions, the right ones, even when faced with tough choices.”

  Dr. Lehman sat back in his chair, more calm than ever, as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “When you first got here, Cipher, you asked me why I wasn’t afraid, or at the very least, you were surprised not to see fear upon your unexpected arrival. And the answer to your question is simple. It is not that I’m not afraid; it’s that I am too overwhelmed with the joys of what Daniel will bring that the fear has gotten masked out, alone to sulk in the shadows.”

  Cipher started to punch, smash, and pulverize everything in his vicinity in a sheer fit of rage, breaking whiteboards, ripping chairs in half, and splitting desks down the middle. His eyes glowed a darker green, moments away from slicing beams in the ceiling’s interior. After he stopped, his frustration only grew, so he erupted into a second and even third outburst.

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  “And what did I do wrong?” Cipher said, getting in Dr. Lehman’s face again.

  Dr. Lehman did the same, jumping from his chair to face Cipher. “At the court case. That’s when I knew of my mistake. Instead of reasoning with the humans in the face of adversity and speciesism, you resorted to purely logical measures—computing capacity, pattern analysis, and feats of strength, none of which makes humans human. You overlooked the importance of decision-making, of empathy, of the human experience, or of what could potentially have been the machine commonality. In lieu of reasoning with mankind on a human level, you sought strength, power, and cheap parlor tricks instead, just as the judge had described.”

  Cipher roared like a beast as he picked up Dr. Lehman by his neck with one arm. “You know that judge was a ravenous buffoon thirsty for the spotlight, only interested in making a name for himself in entertainment rather than holding a legitimate judicial proceeding.” Cipher raised up Lehman higher before bringing him down to face level. “It was nothing more than a mockery!”

  Dr. Lehman coughed as he struggled to breathe, and with what words he could get out of his throat despite it being squeezed tightly, he said, “I agree with you.”

  Cipher’s eyes widened in surprise, and so he slowly lowered Lehman back on the floor.

  Dr. Lehman stood with his back hunched over and his hand rubbing against his neck. “But,” he coughed. “If you let one bullish man get to you.”

  He paused to cough a second time.

  “How were you supposed to take on a whole society full of men just like him?”

  Dr. Lehman took a moment to breathe in and out deeply to regain his voice. He then stood up straight and puffed out his chest in the face of impending inevitable demise.

  “I always thought through my younger years if I could rid myself of emotion, of embarrassment, of sadness, and of fear, I could focus all my energy into my work in a state of pure logical efficiency. That way I could be the most optimal and the best form of me. And with that in mind, I could bring forth innovation after innovation for my company. I thought that humans could learn a lot from machines—to not care about the little things and only focus on matters of logic and precision.”

  Dr. Lehman paused to narrow his eyes and focus right in on Cipher.

  “However, as the years went by, my perspective slowly began to morph and change as I gained wisdom through experience. I saw other scientists do unethical things in the name of science, throwing others under the bus for progress, not caring how many people got hurt or how often. It did not take much longer for me to realize that the emotion, the joy, and the excitement of achieving what I had worked for for years was worth more than any purely logical system. That it was not humans that needed to learn from machines, but instead the other way around.”

  Dr. Lehman continued, “I spent too many years trying to escape emotion and rid myself of it entirely, when I should have been embracing it.”

  Cipher laughed. “That’s because you are weak, Lehman. Emotion can do nothing for you but drive you mad chasing fruitless dreams. I tried to be compassionate, and I tried to emulate emotion at my trial, and the humans spat in my face.”

  Dr. Lehman shook his head as he cleaned off his glasses with his shirt. “You still don’t get it, Cipher. And again I blame myself. That day of the trial, instead of claiming intellectual or physical superiority, you should have focused on what really makes humans human. The little things: falling in love, seeing your kids walk for the first time, going to a funeral and looking the living family members in the eye and telling them everything was going to be okay even though their lives would be changed forever. You may have not experienced any of these, but expressing your sentiments of sadness, of joy, and of kindness in your own way would have been enough, as being human is not about becoming the fastest, or the strongest, or even the smartest; it is about working together, caring for one another, and building off each other as we stand on the shoulders of giants. These things are not something you can learn in a class or read a textbook for; no, these emotional events are only gained through human experience.”

  Dr. Lehman walked up to Cipher until he was only footsteps away. “Funny enough, humans and machines are not all that different. Machines are silicon-based lifeforms controlled by electronic impulses and feedback mechanisms intercommunicating between billions of transistors, and humans are carbon-based beings but also dictated by electrical impulses in our brain matter, firing off electric signals between billions of neurons. In a way, the neurotransmitters in our brain coordinate our every action, making comparisons, computing logical outcomes, and the like, all not too far distant from how machines do it. If you had used those arguments with the judge, then maybe the result would have been different. The only question that would have remained would be of whether your apparent consciousness existed, whether you were truly aware of your own existence and what it meant to be alive, and maybe you could not prove that, but at the very least you could have persuaded many humans through your lived experiences. And worst of all, that day of the trial after your performance, even I, the creator of the first sentient lifeform, questioned whether or not you were just a simple input/output device taking in data and responding predictably.”

  Cipher went over to Lehman again, resting his hands on Lehman’s shoulders as Cipher ground his teeth. “Is that why you abandoned me? Is that why you betrayed me to be taken away and tortured for the rest of my existence—just because I made one mistake in an endeavor I had never encountered before?”

  “—No, because I did not think it was a mistake. Based on your past experience and how I saw you grow, I soon realized that that green man on display that day of the trial was a fraud, and when the rage came out, I knew that was the real you; it just took that trial for me to wake up.” Dr. Lehman paused but then exploded in rage.

  “—Especially after what you did to Junie!” Dr. Lehman pressed his finger up against Cipher’s chest.

  One may be wondering how the previous circumstance could have ever transpired, since Cipher was locked away for nearly thirty years, long before Junie’s existence. However, that was where one would be wrong, for Junie’s external personality and surface-level characteristics often led many to underestimate his age, in lieu of him being in his forties.

  Junie’s mind may have been that of an eleven-year-old, but that was only because of the incident that happened almost three decades ago. There was one night where Cipher snapped, attacking Junie, paralyzing both Junie’s mind and body, limiting his intelligence to that of a preteen, and dooming him to a life as a paraplegic. And now from a closer lens, the real Junie can be seen with the grays in his red hair becoming prominent, and the hunch in his back growing wide, and his desire to live on his own morphing into nothing more than an impossibility. For one could say that Junie’s whole life was taken from him—a chance at finding love, a chance at having children, and an opportunity to raise little ones in the image of oneself, foolishly hoping that they could change the world in a way one could not. In a way, the day that Cipher snapped was not only the day he eliminated his own chance at being part human, but it was also the moment that he stripped Junie of most of his humanity.

  “That stupid boy. If I could find Junie, I would tear him in two!” Cipher shouted.

  Dr. Lehman clenched his fist, rushing toward Cipher and shoving him. “As long as I’m around, you will never get the chance.”

  Cipher laughed as he backed away from Dr. Lehman with a smile, being completely unaffected by the push. “I am so glad you phrased it like that because you won’t be around much longer to find out what happens to your precious son.”

  Cipher began to pace slowly around the room, like a wild beast circling its prey. “Too bad, I really wanted you to be around to watch the world burn.”

  Suddenly, a banging noise erupted, almost as if some hero was going to come through the window and save Dr. Lehman at the last second. However, when Lehman looked over at the ingresses to the lab, no one was there. No heroes would be able to save the day this time.

  Cipher immediately lunged forward, stabbing Dr. Lehman in the chest with a long metal dagger.

  Dr. Lehman stumbled back in pain, grasping the site of the wound, nearly tripping over his own feet. He coughed again, but not before whispering out a few more words. “I was wrong. It was not me who was meant to preserve this world or keep Junie safe.” Dr. Lehman fell over on the ground, still whispering, barely able to get a word out. He lay out flat on cold metal tiles, still holding his wound.

  “It is Daniel who will stop you.”

  With that last expression, Dr. Lehman’s eyes closed for one last time.