If he had a heart, he suspected it'd be 'fluttering' like he's heard some agents talk about. Although he wasn't a human, he was positive that if he were, he'd want to hold this agent close and never let go. He'd been the one to instigate conversation, and the Singing Machine wanted so desperately to be able to respond. The agents had never been interested in conversation, and any attempts from him usually drove them insane. He was no longer producing music, so he focused on other pastimes instead. That man gave him something to do, now that the Manager had realized something was up, and wasn't sending any other agents in. That just makes the Singing Machine like him more. He wants to be like that agent, the one who can enter his containment and even speak to him without going insane, murderously so. He wants to walk among humans, to feel the warmth of one still alive, to be as close to human as he can possibly get. A machine capable of inciting grotesque murder and acts that would horrify many civilians.īut the Singing Machine wants to be more than just a machine. Because to the manager, to the agents, this was just a machine. They certainly don't expect it to have any higher thought.

To them, he suspected, a murderous machine has no gender, no concept of gender. And yet, something about that resonated with him. 'If I were human,' he thought, 'I'd be known as a horrific serial killer.' But in the Corporation, he was just an Abnormality.

The energy he produced, and the deaths he caused. He never needed air to breathe, sunlight to thrive, and let the lack of anything natural felt just as suffocating as the walls all around him. It's strange, to gain awareness of who and what you really are.

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