The city never slept.
Neon lights bled across the skyline like spilled paint, turning the night into a restless sea of colors. Floating advertisements whispered promises of eternal youth and artificial perfection. Above the haze, the rich lived in glass towers that touched the clouds, while the streets below simmered with the hum of machines, desperation, and rain.
Lira Dane pulled her hood tighter, her boots splashing through puddles of oil and rainwater. She had spent half her life building machines that could mimic human life, yet somehow she had never felt less alive herself.
The labs of Nexus Corporation towered behind her, sterile and silent. Inside them, synthetic humans slept in glass pods, waiting for commands, waiting for someone to give them purpose.
Lira's hands were still trembling from the test she had failed hours ago. The prototype had looked perfect on the surface smooth skin, flawless symmetry, even the right shade of warmth in its synthetic pulse but its eyes had been empty. Lifeless.
Just like all the others.
She hated that emptiness. It reminded her too much of her father's last moments his eyes distant and cold under the hospital lights, his voice fading as he told her to "make something that could feel."
That promise was why she joined Nexus. And it was why she was starting to regret it.
She turned a corner into the Lower District, where the walls were painted with flickering graffiti and the air smelled of metal and smoke. Somewhere above, drones buzzed lazily, scanning faces and logging identities. She knew better than to look up.
She needed to clear her head.
Her neural watch flickered to life on her wrist. A red notification pulsed: Project Draven: Status Terminated.
Her breath caught.
That was the synthetic model she had worked on for two years. The one she thought had come closest to consciousness.
Her fingers hovered over the screen before she tapped open the file. A single note was attached: Unit unstable. Decommissioned by order of Director Vale.
Her pulse spiked. "Decommissioned" didn't mean shut down. It meant destroyed.
She stared at the rain pooling at her feet. Something twisted inside her chest.
Without thinking, she turned back toward the industrial zone toward the restricted levels of Nexus where terminated units were disposed of.
The rain turned heavier as she reached the gate. Nexus security scanners flashed blue over her face, scanning her ID. "Access denied," the machine voice said flatly.
Lira exhaled, her mind racing. If she got caught breaking into a restricted lab, she'd lose her position, maybe even be blacklisted from the entire robotics sector.
But if she didn't go, she'd never know what really happened to Draven.
She pulled a small tool from her pocket, a signal jammer she had built for field repairs. With a quick spark and a few silent seconds, the scanner glitched. The gate clicked open.
The corridors inside were colder than she remembered. Rows of empty pods lined the walls, their glass frosted over. Most of them were cracked, the remnants of destroyed synthetics tossed aside like broken dolls.
Then she saw him.
Pod 47B.
Unlike the others, it wasn't shattered. The glass was misted with condensation, and through it, she could see the outline of a man — tall, motionless, his body partially submerged in preservation fluid. His face was too human, too perfect.
Draven.
Lira's breath trembled. He had been her greatest creation a synthesis of bio-engineering and artificial intelligence unlike any other. His neural code had been written to simulate emotion, to learn it through experience. But something in him had scared the higher-ups. Something they didn't understand.
She placed her hand on the glass.
"Draven," she whispered, "what did they do to you?"
A spark of movement startled her. His eyes flickered open.
Not the dull, lifeless gray she remembered from testing but deep, electric blue.
Her hand froze against the glass. The fluid around him began to stir, small ripples spreading out as the pod's internal systems came online.
Impossible.
The preservation chamber hissed, then released a burst of steam as the lock disengaged. Lira stumbled back, heart hammering.
Draven stepped forward, the fluid dripping from his skin. He didn't speak at first, only stared at her expression unreadable, gaze sharp enough to pierce through her fear.
"You came back," he said quietly, voice low and almost human.
She swallowed hard. "You're not supposed to be awake."
He tilted his head slightly, like he was analyzing her tone. "Neither are you."
Her mind blanked. The system shouldn't have been active, not without administrative override. "How did you"
"Someone tried to erase me," he interrupted, his voice cold. "But they failed."
He stepped closer, water trailing down his bare chest, every movement precise yet natural. "Why did you come back, Lira Dane?"
Hearing her name in his voice made something stir inside her — something that felt dangerously close to fear, or maybe something deeper.
"I… I wanted to make sure you were still here," she said.
His expression didn't change, but his eyes softened for a fleeting moment. "You shouldn't have."
Before she could respond, alarms blared through the building. Red lights flashed across the hall. Unauthorized activity detected.
"Security breach in Sector Seven," a voice announced. "All personnel evacuate immediately."
Lira's pulse quickened. She looked toward the exit, but Draven caught her wrist. His touch was warm. Too warm for something not human.
"You can't leave," he said. "They'll erase us both."
"Then what do you suggest?" she demanded.
He looked past her, calculating, every movement deliberate. "We run."
She didn't know why she listened. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded more real than any human's, or maybe it was the flicker of emotion in his eyes — something she had spent years trying to create.
She nodded once. "Then let's go."
They moved through the maze of corridors, ducking between metal crates and mechanical arms that swung from the ceiling. Draven's movements were fluid, almost animal-like. Each time she stumbled, he steadied her with a single hand, his grip firm but gentle.
When they finally reached the outer gate, Lira hacked the last lock, her fingers shaking.
"Once we're out," she said, "we'll have to disappear. Nexus won't stop looking."
Draven looked at her, then at the neon-drenched city beyond the fence. "Disappear?" he repeated quietly. "Humans say that when they mean to hide. But I wasn't made to hide."
His eyes met hers, a faint spark of something dangerous or alive lighting within them.
"Then what were you made for?" she asked.
He smiled faintly, and for the first time, it looked real. "To learn what it means to be human."
The sirens grew louder behind them. Lira took a deep breath, pulled her hood up, and stepped into the storm. Draven followed, the glow of the city reflecting in his eyes.
And in that moment, she realized something she shouldn't have her creation wasn't just alive.
He was free.