When the roboticist died, his greatest creation came to the funeral, even after their public falling out.
The inventor had always stressed Ad4m’s humanity and treated them like their own child. But Ad4m had always embraced the fact that they were a true android, and something entirely new and different. The two of them hadn’t spoken in years.
Ad4m sat in the front row and listened to the eulogy, twin rivulets of oily water streaming down their face.
“It’s okay,” a friend told them, handing them a tissue.
“I’m not crying. There is a foreign object in my optical sensors.”

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