[ WP ] Today , you went into the room your parents told you to never go in .

My house is normal. At least, mostly. One small thing separates it from all the other houses I know of- The Room. 
 
 Locked, alarmed, secured, this Room has been off-limits to me for as long as I can recall. No reason given, just a flat order, `` Never go in there.'' 
 
 But as any teen knows, rules are made to be broken. So I, being the idiot that I was, stole the key one day when my parents were gone. 
 
 Before I continue, I should probably mention that I've always been really good at math. I should also probably mention that my friends have always known I'm not exactly the most social of people. Both of these things were explained on that fateful day. 
 
 I made it past the passcode on the door. Presented the key I had stolen. Walked in. 
 
 At first, it did n't even seem like a part of my house. Gleaming white walls, tile floor, banks of computers on the walls, this room looked more like a lab than a room in my traditional rural home. But upon second glance, I noticed a number of humanoid forms, in various stages of completion, which erased any consideration of the architectural style from my mind. Every form had my face. 
 
 I almost turned to run, but a morbid curiosity kept me rooted in place. How much wiser that would have been, to flee and never return. 
 
 There was a number above each form. Numbers one through fourteen were complete, then a gap, then sixteen through nineteen seemed... unfinished somehow. 
 
 Holy Sh*t! 
 
 They're robots! 
 
 Androids, to be more precise. Why does my brain do that, I wondered. In the most shocking of circumstances, here I was, considering the proper term for a humanoid robot. Android, I decided. Robot was the general, android the specific. But back to my story. 
 
 I walked over to the nearest screen. No password. On the desktop, there was a folder titled `` Blueprints.'' Opening it, there was one cryptic file- `` The consciousness project- an incremental approach'' 
 
 Crap. 
 
 I'm a robot. An android, not a robot ( Why, brain?! ) ( Oh right, I do n't have one ). Crap. Just then, the door opened. 
 
 I'm writing this from a train. After I discovered I was an android ( I got it right! ), I outlived my usefulness. At least that's what Dr. Smith said, just before trying to shut me down. I'm not sure if he has remotes I have n't deactivated yet. I'm not sure how much time I have. I suppose, until the law catches up with reality, I have no rights. 
 
 I never should have opened that door. 

