Prologue

The year is 1970.

Four years ago, I was a hero of science. Today, I am a villain for advancing too far.

"Professor Petrov, can you comment on how your technology was used in the race to the moon?"

Repeated flashing camera lights troubled my eyes. A bothersome crowd of people form a circle around me as I walk. They were journalists bent on asking me the same questions over and over. I was not interested in answering them. I kept my head low and firmly pushed through them on the empty street with no intent of responding to their questions.

"Professor, can you comment on your involvement with the recent appearance of robots around the world?"

The frigid air of snowfall I was once feeling a moment ago no longer affected me. The heat trapped among these bodies kept me warm. My hands were hidden under my white coat pockets as I hold them tight. I did not understand why they continued to surround me.

"Professor Petrov, the robots have shown a resemblance of emotion and free will. Your comment on this?"

I advanced this country to a technological level beyond anything ever observed in history, and this is the thanks I receive. Clueless humans with limited purpose swarmed around me like parasites. Their voices are so loud that I can barely hear myself think.

"Multiple national governments, including our Soviet Union, have called for the extermination of your robots. Was this an unauthorized action?"

Looking over top of the crowd of people, my apartment complex was now in sight. A few more steps and I will be able to leave the nightmare of human civilization for another day.

"Professor Petrov!"

I have a theory that most humans are born with a set amount of patience. Mine was lost a long time ago.

"How do you feel about the possibility of robots replacing civilization?"

I don't have any time for the pointless babble that the human race has to offer.

The crowd leaves an opening for me as I reach the front door to my apartment complex. I quickly make my way up inside my personal apartment and lock the door behind me. The noise finally settles, and I can hear myself think again.

After taking a moment to recollect myself, I head through my spacious and elegantly decorated apartment to my laboratory. My laboratory was a small room connected to my living area, as I had sacrificed any space for a kitchen for my more important matters.

I could hear a few journalists outside my front door, someone must’ve let them into the complex. It was no surprise why they knew my exact apartment, after the Space Race the media essentially detailed everything about me head to toe.

I sat down in my chair in my laboratory, asking myself why I was doing this, why I was torturing myself. Why put up with the excessive bickering of humans criticizing my works.

I hadn’t always felt the way that I do. It was during the Space Race that had truly set me off on this path. I had realized that humans were driven to create and innovate only for selfish purposes. The entire point of the exaggerated race was to see who could advance faster.

Never once was union something that concerned the minds of my collaborators. Had it been, history would not have resulted in my victory through Russia, and humanity’s defeat through division.

Unfortunately for them, there was nothing that they could do to make amends for their loss.

On my counter was a mess of papers, robot parts, and other tools I had been using during the last few weeks. In the center of the mess was a gray remote controller.

My goal was a button push away. My ultimate creation was ready to fix the world and everything in it.

I will bring civilization crashing down and resurrect it with my immaculate one.

My finger pressed the button.

BEEP.