Glaze

"Dragonkind has a unique ability to pack bond. To other species, to familiars... our empathy is outstanding, and admirable. But it can also lead us astray. There's no thought, or feelings, or soul in that android. You're just projecting your own feelings onto it. It's not your fault; it's your brain playing tricks on you. It looks like us, but there's nothing beneath the surface. I assure you it isn't capable of fear, or pain - or, for that matter, happiness. Our androids simply replicate emotion, because we've found they tend to land in the 'uncanny valley' otherwise."

"Think about it like this: would you still feel this way if it was shaped like, say, a box, or a toaster? It may look like a dragon, but it isn't one. It's not really alive. What I'm trying to say is that Project is perfectly ethical, and there's no cause for alarm. There is no suffering involved in the making and testing of our androids. Rogue elements that may claim otherwise are simply that, a fringe movement driven by pseudoscience and misplaced empathy."

"There is no cause for alarm."

There is no cause for alarm. She had said that, once, and meant it.

"There is no cause for alarm." She echoed, again and again, until the words sounded hollow in her mouth. They dripped like the Shadowbinder's gunk, fetid and soured, tasting like poison as they flowed off her tongue.

Your brain is playing tricks on you, Glaze. Pseudoscience. Misplaced empathy. It's not capable of fear. It's not like you.

Still, she stepped towards the shivering, dragon-shaped thing, brow creased with involuntary concern. "It's a temporary blackout. The power will return shortly." It looked afraid. So afraid. Of the dark, yes, and of her.

It's not like you. This is fine. This is fine.

... is it?