The Machines I Built

"Again," I barked at the robot, forcing myself to stand as it chirped and whirred back to life.

It started to move again, raising its hard plastic to fight again. I'd worked so hard on it, and now, just like I'd programmed it to, it was beating me. Badly. I was getting slower, more sluggish. I'd sat for days at the computer, coding it to be exactly like this. It drove it's perfectly modeled hands into my stomach, forcing all the breath out of my lungs all at once. I fell over, and it started to move towards me.

"Stop," I commanded, and it halted obediently.

I lay there, the act of taking air in so painful I almost wanted to sob. My watch buzzed to life, chirping widely. I'd set up sensors so I'd know when my uncle was coming. I needed to hide the robot.

"Follow."

It walked after me, right into the closet.

"Shut down."

Its body went rigid, and I closed the door. I ignored the pain and sprinted to the computer monitors. I needed to close the programs before my uncle could see them.

His footsteps echoed loudly on the hard floors of his lab. As his niece, I was allowed to be down there with him, but he couldn't know about my sparring partner, also known as Project Fight Club. Which was what I called it.

"Penelope," my uncle's voice called, his friendly head poking through the door. His eyes looked like they couldn't do anything wrong, but they still belonged to a monster. A monster who would misappropriate Project Fight Club if given the opportunity.

"Yes," I called trying my best to seem nonchalant.

"Could you do Logan's diagnostic for today?"

"You got it," I grinned, trying to hide how happy that made me.

My uncle left, and Logan sauntered through the door, looking as stupidly confident as ever.

"Good afternoon," he told me, looking just as happy to see me as I was him.

"Good afternoon," I smiled back, watching him as he sat down, pulling all the equipment I'd need out. However much I enjoyed talking to him, I did still need to do whatever my uncle asked me to, keep the mask on the monster.

He looked me up and down. "We still have to do that," he whined, watching me move the stuff around.

"Unless you want to explain why we didn't to Uncle John."

"Good point. He doesn't like me as it is."

"Logan," I explained again, "my uncle doesn't like anybody."

"He likes you, but that's different, isn't it? Because you're human."

I pursed my lips, picking up a bulky computer and setting it down on the table next to where he sat. I stood, plugging in the sensors that ran the whole test.

"It doesn't matter. You're superhuman, which I personally think is a whole lot better."

"It matters to him, and whether we like it or not, his opinion is the only one that really matters."

Logan was right. Legally, the government didn't even know he existed, because he'd never actually left the sprawling lab that served as my basement. I wasn't in charge of anything, my uncle and his employees were. And all his employees were paid under the table too, so nothing about the place would have any danger of being shut down by outside forces.

I didn't know what to say, so the sound of typing filled the silence. The computer screen showed the same thing it always had. He wasn't human.

I watched as it started to load, the numbers all filling in. He looked human and acted human, but he was stronger. He was able to hold up more than any human ever could.