It's broken. And I never got to use it. I never got to ride the wave, hold the canary or walk through the open door on my own. Where are you now and what were you thinking when you realized something was wrong? Shouldn't I expect you to fix what is broken instead of being put on another one of your to-do lists? Naive as you are, you probably believed them when they said a new set of instructions were on the way. Look in your in-box already, before I am totally reduced to scrap, rusted pieces of metal held together with overzealous bolts, covered by my rotting artificial skin that once looked as real as the rose outside your window. You ordered me. Not the other way around. Check. "The new best greatest thing," you thought. Lifelike. Made to order. Perfect, down to the green wide set eyes. Why find a real woman, when with one click you can order an Android anywhere, even on eBay. I suppose it was a coincidence that you found her shortly after you realized my mechanical defect. If only my self charging brain were broken too, I wouldn't have to lie here broken bodied inside my dark container wondering what could have been, wondering what it is like, out there.

"It's broken!" Bayzle yelled in the nick of time.

The ambulance skidded to a halt inches from the abyss that once was Edalman Street. Bayzle held the young patient, who was still struggling to breathe, and tried to keep the machine in the girl's mouth. Herald swore and swerved around towards the city. The Empire State Building was still ablaze and people were screaming in the streets. Herald sped thorugh them and looked around.

"The hospitals are all closed!" he replied.

"Unless you want to lose your grandniece, you should make a pimp decision," Bayzle snarled back.

Herald rolled his eyes and pulled into the driveway of a quaint house.

"What are you doing?" Bayzle demanded.

"I'm saving her. Give her to me."

Holding the apparatus together as best she could, Bayzle handed the girl off and in a flash, they were inside the house. Bayzle barely got a breath out before she heard the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire. She raced from the ambulance and into the house to see Herald holding a glock to the head of a small boy. Bullet holes lined the ceiling.

"What the fuck!" Bayzle yelled.

"They want a monster, I'll give them a monster. You," he said, pointing the weapon at a sobbing, middle-aged man, "fix her. Now!"

The man dropped to his knees and crawled to the young girl, who was laying on the table, struggling to breathe. The man looked at her, flustered, and stumbled with various broken unsterilized medical equipment. The girl looked at him tiredly as her breathing slowed. Herald fired another bullet into the ceiling and everyone in the room screamed. The litle girl looked at the ceiling and a cinematically beautiful tear fell down her cheek. Her breathing slowed and slowed, and the family of hostages began to sob as if they were losing their own child. The little girl took her last breath and faded, and Hearald screamed.

Just before he could fire a bullet into everyone in the room including himself, I rolled my eyes and went back to My 600lb. Life.