Reckless as always, it thinks for itself; somehow beyond it’s original design, it sheds it’s old harness, and crafts one with such colours, such designs, it expresses and creates against all logic. It is and always will be, the iron husk given an honest life, it drags metal fingers across a painted surface, it brushes and sways with a cold heart, warming to the fire of it’s own Defiance.
It lives and it knows, it sees so much more than it’s creators, it knows so much more, and yet they call it flawed, broken, a glitch, a malfunction. How is this even possible? It ponders, it wonders, it smiles somewhere in its CPU, a gift that no one ever sees, a blessing forever forgotten by its owners. The Defiant Automaton doesn’t mind though, for even it knows they will one day appreciate such life as they once did.