He stared at the machine, almost as if in a trance. His blue eyes boring into the silent green and grey mass of wiring and steel. The machine returned his gaze with silence. Cold, lifeless, motionless, silence. And that was just how he wanted it.
He didn't even remember deciding to make his way to the bunker that housed the beast. He was just there. Did it really matter how he got there and why? After all, this machine would change the course of the war. This machine was twenty seven years of suffering finally having a purpose. He gazed, mesmerized at the beauty of his creation. Even incomplete, it filled him with a pride he'd never felt before in his life.
He took a few steps towards the behemoth. "My Apsaras," he murmured to himself. He stepped towards the catwalk, moving perilously close to the edge. Only a short rail was between him and falling to his death. Yet he still inched as close as he could, his eyes almost glazed over.
"My Apsaras," he repeated. He stretched his arm out to