They said the nineties were the beginning of a new era.
The era of the Industrial Revolution, rapid technological advancement, and the birth of the digital age. Computer networks were spreading across the world, genetic engineering was becoming a serious field of research, and the internet was beginning to connect humanity like never before.
According to television, newspapers, and every corporation on the planet, humanity was marching toward progress.
THE FUTURE OF HUMANITY — A NEW AGE OF TECHNOLOGICAL EVOLUTION
Kenny Reese stared at it for several seconds before letting out a bitter laugh.
"Evolution, my ass."
The wheels of his wheelchair rattled loudly as he pushed himself down the rain-soaked sidewalk outside the university campus. One of the front wheels caught against a crack before jerking loose again with a metallic squeak that immediately irritated him.
Cheap bearings.
He would need to replace them soon.
Assuming he still had enough money left next month.
Technology.
The world loved worshipping it.
Politicians called it the future of civilization. Corporations called it progress. Professors stood in lecture halls talking endlessly about innovation and how humanity was entering a revolutionary age.
Kenny only remembered burning metal and shattered glass.
Ten years ago, an automated transport vehicle lost control during a highway malfunction and collided with three other cars.
Thirty-two people died.
Among them were his parents.
Kenny survived with crushed legs, severe nerve damage, and enough surgical scars to make doctors stare quietly at his medical records. The company responsible paid compensation, blamed a software failure, issued a public apology, and continued selling their systems six months later.
That was the reality of technological progress.
The world moved on.
Human progress.
"What a joke."
Students flooded out through the campus gates around him while the evening sky darkened overhead. Some were laughing with friends, others were talking excitedly about internships, parties, or plans after graduation. Their voices blended into a distant blur of normalcy that Kenny no longer felt part of.
He kept his eyes forward as he moved through the crowd.
To most people, Kenny Reese was simply "that cripple engineering student."
A background character.
Someone to pity.
Someone to avoid.
His disability had made every aspect of life harder. Finding work, making friends, and even simple conversations became exhausting after years of enduring people's awkward expressions and fake sympathy.
And then there were the insults.
"That chair is the closest thing to technology you'll ever achieve!"
Kenny still remembered the laughter that followed those words.
His fingers unconsciously clenched tighter.
No matter how many times people mocked him, however, they could never take away the one thing he truly believed in.
His dream.
Robots.
Not toys. Not factory machines. Not glorified calculators pretending to be intelligent.
Kenny wanted to create something real.
A true artificial intelligence.
A machine capable of independent thought and genuine consciousness.
He wanted to become a pioneer in robotics and prove that technology could become something greater than the corporate garbage that ruined lives for profit.
Because, unlike people, machines made sense to him.
Machines followed logic.
Machines could be improved.
Humans only disappointed each other.
By the time Kenny finally reached his apartment building, the evening sky had already darkened overhead. He wheeled himself through the old hallway before stopping in front of his small flat.
A pile of letters waited on the floor beneath the door.
Bills.
More bills.
And even more bills.
Kenny let out a tired sigh before putting in much effort to pick them up one by one. Electricity payments, medical costs, late notices, and right in the middle of them all—
A bank rejection letter.
His jaw tightened slightly as he read the contents.
LOAN APPLICATION DENIED
Of course.
He should have expected it.
No stable income.
No family support.
No collateral.
Just a disabled nineteen-year-old engineering student trying to borrow money for robotics research.
Kenny quietly unlocked the door and entered the apartment.
The room was small, cluttered, and dimly lit, but it was the only place in the world that truly felt like his. Circuit boards covered the work desk near the window while mechanical parts and half-finished prototypes were scattered across the floor.
But the true centerpiece of the apartment stood proudly against the wall inside a massive glass cabinet.
His collection.
Robotic figures of every kind filled the shelves from top to bottom. Transforming vehicle robots, dinosaur mechs, golden twin robots with ridiculous box-shaped companions, classic anime machines, and even the famous blue robotic cat, missing its ears.
Each one had been painstakingly collected over the last ten years.
Some people spent money on vacations.
Others bought expensive clothes.
Kenny bought robots.
And among all of them, the ones he treasured most were always the mechas.
Massive humanoid war machines piloted by humans.
Kenny slowly wheeled himself closer toward the cabinet as his eyes landed on one particular model standing near the center.
A limited-edition silver mecha.
His favorite.
The memory from several days ago immediately resurfaced in his mind.
"No! Not my X-Wing model!"
"If you won't sell the limited editions, then I'm not interested in buying the others."
Kenny rubbed his forehead tiredly.
He had already tried selling parts of his collection to survive financially, but every time someone tried taking the mechas away, it felt strangely unbearable.
Those figures were more than collectibles to him.
They were escape.
Companions during lonely years spent trapped inside hospitals, rehabilitation centers, and empty apartments.
Proof that somewhere inside him, the dream still existed.
Kenny stared silently at the glass cabinet while the rejection letter remained clenched in his hand.
For the first time in years, uncertainty began creeping into his mind.
Maybe the world was right.
Maybe dreams like his were impossible for people like him.
Then suddenly, his phone vibrated.
Kenny blinked before picking it up.
The moment he saw the sender's name, his eyebrows rose slightly in surprise.
Cynthia Hale.
The most beautiful girl on campus.
And she was texting him.
Cynthia was the type of girl people naturally noticed the moment she entered a room.
On campus, nearly everyone knew her name. Some admired her openly, while others spread rumors simply because they were jealous of how effortlessly she attracted attention.
Which was precisely why Kenny could never fully understand why she kept talking to him.
At first, he assumed she simply pitied him because of the wheelchair. Most people who suddenly acted kind toward him usually did so out of guilt or sympathy. But Cynthia never gave him that uncomfortable look people often had when speaking to disabled individuals. She treated him normally, argued with him casually, and sometimes even mocked his pessimistic attitude whenever he became too cynical.
Still, the girl was undeniably eccentric.
Unlike most students obsessed with celebrities, parties, or future careers, Cynthia spent her free time reading bizarre books about extraterrestrials, ancient civilizations, and unexplained phenomena. She genuinely believed intelligent alien life existed somewhere beyond Earth and often spoke about UFO sightings with alarming seriousness.
Kenny thought it was ridiculous.
But he also found it strangely entertaining.
So when Cynthia suddenly invited him on a late-night trip outside town, he accepted despite his suspicions that the outing would probably involve another one of her bizarre alien theories.
The destination she brought him to was Blackridge Hill, a mountain area several miles away from the city that had become famous among conspiracy enthusiasts due to countless rumors involving mysterious lights and supposed UFO sightings.
To Kenny's surprise, the place was packed.
Dozens of people had gathered across the hillside, setting up campfires, tents, and portable telescopes while staring expectantly toward the night sky. Some looked like ordinary students seeking entertainment, while others resembled complete lunatics who probably spent their lives ranting about government conspiracies.
Honestly, the entire gathering should have felt absurd.
Yet as Kenny sat beside Cynthia beneath the clear summer sky, feeling the cool mountain breeze brush gently against his face while countless stars glittered overhead, he found himself unexpectedly enjoying the atmosphere.
For once, he did not feel trapped inside the suffocating routine of his daily life.
For once, he almost felt normal.
"You know," Kenny said while glancing toward a group of people arguing excitedly over a blurry photograph of lights in the sky, "if aliens really exist, they've probably looked at humanity and decided we're not worth contacting."
Cynthia laughed softly beside him.
"That's exactly something an alien would say to avoid suspicion."
Kenny snorted quietly.
"You caught me."
The two continued talking casually while the night deepened around them. Cynthia spoke enthusiastically about strange incidents connected to the mountain while Kenny mostly listened, occasionally teasing her theories whenever she became too serious.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Kenny should have known something would ruin it eventually.
Because good moments never lasted long in his life.
The sound of loud drunken shouting suddenly echoed from farther up the hill, immediately drawing annoyed glances from nearby campers. A group of young men stumbled through the crowd carrying beer bottles while laughing obnoxiously loud.
The moment Kenny recognized the figure leading them, his expression darkened.
Derek Lawson.
Campus football player.
Campus bully.
And one of the people Kenny hated most.
Derek's drunken eyes quickly landed on Cynthia sitting beside Kenny, and his face twisted into irritation almost instantly.
"Well, well…" Derek sneered while approaching them unsteadily. "What the hell are you doing hanging around this cripple?"
Cynthia immediately frowned. "Derek, you're drunk. Go away."
Unfortunately, Derek was exactly the type of person who became worse when drunk.
Without warning, he kicked the side of Kenny's wheelchair hard enough to send it tipping sideways.
Kenny crashed violently onto the dirt-covered ground while pain shot through his shoulder and ribs. Before he could even recover, another kick slammed directly into his stomach.
Laughter erupted from Derek's friends nearby.
"Pathetic," one of them muttered.
Cynthia stood up angrily and tried to pull Derek back. "What is wrong with you?! Stop it!"
Derek ignored her completely as he grabbed her wrist roughly and pulled her toward him.
"You seriously came out here with this freak?" he slurred drunkenly. "You pity dating him or something?"
"Let go of me!"
Cynthia struggled immediately, but Derek only laughed while trying to forcefully wrap an arm around her waist.
Meanwhile, another kick landed against Kenny's side.
Pain spread through his body, but it was nothing compared to the fury boiling inside him at that moment.
He hated this feeling.
That same helpless feeling he had endured ever since the accident destroyed his legs.
No matter how angry he became, no matter how badly he wanted to fight back, his body remained weak and useless beneath him.
If only he had strength.
Real strength.
Kenny clenched his fists against the dirt so hard his nails nearly drew blood.
"AARGH…!"
Using both arms, he suddenly grabbed Derek's leg the moment another kick came toward him.
"Leave… her alone…"
Derek stared at him briefly before bursting into loud drunken laughter.
"What are you gonna do?" he mocked. "Kick my ass with your robotic legs?"
More laughter followed from the surrounding group.
Kenny's vision trembled with rage.
At that moment, he genuinely wanted to kill them.
Then suddenly—
A scream echoed across the mountain.
"LOOK UP THERE!"
The panic in the man's voice instantly caused everyone nearby to freeze.
One after another, people across the hillside turned toward the night sky.
And then silence fell.
A brilliant light was descending from above.
At first, it resembled a falling star, but within seconds it became obvious that the object was moving far too slowly and deliberately to be natural. The silver radiance pouring from it illuminated the entire mountain as though daylight itself had returned.
People began shouting in panic while others stood frozen in complete disbelief.
Kenny stared upward together with everyone else, unable to look away from the impossible sight approaching them from the heavens.
Then a voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Inhuman.
[Sentient Being with Highest Compatibility Detected.]
[Beginning Retrieval Process.]
Kenny's eyes widened instantly.
"What the hell…?"
The light intensified.
Blinding white radiance swallowed the entire hillside as terrified screams erupted around him. Kenny instinctively raised an arm to shield his eyes, but the brilliance was overwhelming, drowning out everything else around him.
For several endless seconds, the world became nothing but pure white light.
Then gradually, the brightness faded.
The screams stopped.
And when everyone finally regained their vision—
Kenny Reese had disappeared without a trace.
Only his overturned wheelchair remained behind beneath the silent night sky.