Though Iron-Hearted, I am not Heartless Human

"They say synthetic humans won't hurt."

No one told me that love was deadlier than hurt.

When I was seven, Benjamin Nolte handed me a piece of bread in the rain.

The warmth of his palm burned my sensor and from then on, I had an instruction in my database that could never be deleted -- loved him.

When I was fifteen, I knelt at the entrance of the research institute, sparks flying from my metal knees, begging the dean to let me go find him.

"You'll regret it."

The dean looked at my core program and warned. "Human love is deadlier than any virus."