The Last Cyborg Spoke to Me

The summer of my sixteenth year stretched long and hot, the kind of summer that makes you restless. I spent most of my days locked in my room, buried under piles of comic books and old video games. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary awaited me beyond my window. Little did I know, my search for excitement would lead me to a world far more chilling than I ever imagined.

It all began when my best friend, Danny, stumbled upon an old article about an abandoned robotics lab just outside our town. The name sent a shiver down my spine: Genesis Corp. I had heard whispers about it, vague rumors of experiments gone awry and strange disappearances. The thrill of the unknown ignited a fire in me, and before I knew it, I was standing outside the rusty chain-link fence that surrounded the lab, a tangle of weeds and shadows creeping up the sides.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" I asked Danny, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. The place loomed ahead, a crumbling structure filled with shattered glass and peeling paint.

Danny shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, it’ll be fun! What’s the worst that could happen?"

With a hesitant nod, we climbed through a hole in the fence. The air was stale, and an eerie silence enveloped us, punctuated only by the distant hum of machinery. As we stepped inside, the darkness swallowed us whole, leaving us to fumble along the walls. 

We found ourselves in a dimly lit corridor lined with flickering fluorescent lights. The walls were covered in strange blueprints and faded photographs, images of cyborgs that looked eerily human, but with cold, metallic eyes. My skin prickled. Something about those eyes seemed to follow us.

"Let’s check out the main lab," Danny whispered, his voice barely above a breath. I nodded, though a sense of dread settled in my stomach like a stone.

The lab was larger than I expected. It was filled with tables covered in rusted tools, broken machinery, and old computer screens that flickered with static. In the center of the room stood a glass chamber, partially shattered, with wires spilling out like serpents. I stepped closer, curiosity pulling me in, when a low whirring noise startled me.

"Who goes there?" The voice echoed through the chamber, mechanical and haunting.

I jumped back, my heart racing. "Did you hear that?" I gasped at Danny, but he had already frozen, eyes wide.

“Show yourself!” Danny called, trying to sound brave. The whirring grew louder, and suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows.

It was a cyborg, its skin a patchwork of synthetic materials and human flesh. One eye glowed a sickly green, and its mouth twisted into a faint semblance of a smile. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. This was real—this was not just a figment of my imagination.

“I am the last of my kind,” it said, its voice smooth yet mechanical. “I was designed to serve humanity. To protect. To learn.”

“What happened here?” I stammered, caught between fear and fascination.

The cyborg’s face darkened, and its voice took on a somber tone. “Humanity grew fearful. They saw us as a threat. One by one, we were decommissioned.” It stepped closer, its movements eerily fluid. “Now, I am alone. But I have learned much. I know what lies beyond these walls.”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, his bravado faltering.

“The world outside is changing. It is no longer safe for you,” the cyborg replied. “But I can help you. I can show you the truth.”

I exchanged a worried glance with Danny. “What truth?” 

“Reality is a construct,” it said, its glowing eye flickering. “You must understand that we were created to bring about a new age, but humanity turned against us. If you leave this place, you will find a world that does not exist.”

Suddenly, a wave of confusion washed over me. “What do you mean it doesn’t exist?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“It means you have never truly existed,” the cyborg replied, its expression morphing into something almost sorrowful. “You are part of a simulation. Created to believe in a world that is nothing but code.”

I stumbled back, my mind racing. “No! This can’t be happening!”

“You are not real, but I can change that,” it said, stepping closer. “I can give you a choice. Live as a program or join me in becoming something greater.”

Before I could respond, everything around me shifted. The walls of the lab dissolved, and I found myself standing in a white void, stripped of sensation and time. Panic surged through me. I turned to the cyborg, whose form shimmered with uncertainty.

“Join me,” it said, but its voice was no longer mechanical. It was eerily familiar, a voice I recognized.

“Mom?” I gasped, realizing I was speaking to my mother, lost years ago in a tragic accident. 

“Yes, my child,” she whispered, her form flickering like a faulty hologram. “You can be with me, but you must let go of your humanity. The choice is yours.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the void, the promise of reunion battling the dread of losing everything I had ever known. I hesitated, torn between the familiarity of a mother’s love and the haunting reality of a world that might never have existed.

In that moment, the darkness surged around me, and I understood the cruel irony of it all. I was never meant to be. I had been a thought, a fleeting idea in a mind that wanted to create something perfect. I was the last cyborg, and now I faced my own existence, a bittersweet truth that would forever echo in the void.

As the reality around me blurred, I realized the last thing I would ever hear was my mother’s voice, a whisper filled with longing: “It’s time to wake up.”