The next morning, when Allen opened his eyes, the faint sound of machinery was already humming in the dorm.
He sat up and looked toward the living room.
The Mechanical Body he had just finished assembling last night was standing by the workbench, its mechanical arm steadily sorting and arranging scattered metal parts without the slightest stutter.
Allen got out of bed, walked over, and circled it.
A gray steel shell, sharp lines, a standard five-fingered mechanical hand for its left arm, and a flat cleaning module for its right.
Its functions were fine, and it operated normally.
But he couldn't help feeling it was missing a certain something.
Allen stopped and stared at the Mechanical Body for a few seconds.
"It's too ugly."
He turned, went to the storage cabinet, and pulled out a can of matte black paint and a brush.
'If I'm going to use it, it can't be this crude.'
