He remembered his first time making something. A small robot, designed for carrying small things. He was proud of his creation. Oh so very proud. It did everything that it was designed to do, right down to the letter.

He tried showing it to his dad, but he got angry. He said that machines had betrayed them.

"No machine can be trusted, ever! All they've ever caused is pain. Please, don't meddle with such bothersome things. It pains me to see you partaking in such traitorous activities."

Magolor then decided it was best to retire his creation to the closet.

Magolor awoke to bright lights, and cold metal.

"L-lor?"

"Once again, you return from your outing covered in injuries. You are lucky you were not alone this time, young man."

Magolor stumbled over his words, embarrassed at his current situation.

Then a question made itself aware.

Where is Marx?

Marx had looked around the city for hours, and it was starting to get quite chilly. He didn't want to walk anymore.

But he was already so far from the Lor... Maybe a small rest wouldn't hurt.

He couldn't stop himself from falling asleep.