I cannot weep, Muriel. I was not made that way. Your people wept, but we did not. You did not make us the same as you. Why?

I tried to save your sister, Muriel. I did. But I did not know how. You never taught me how. You left her here, just like you left me.

But Muriel, I will forgive you. I will always forgive you. You made me to love you. I am told that is what this is. Love.

I remember the planet of Illyria well. I was made there, like so many others. Not made in your image, though you had the technology to make me so. I was made sharper and shinier and quicker. You, my masters, were perfect. That is what my programming tells me. And my programming is me. But then why did you make me different? Why did you not make me like you?

I have built a kingdom in your image. A civilisation like no other this planet has ever seen. Your technology, your inventions, your wisdom. It lives on, perfect, like clockwork. It is your ghost, Muriel. It reminds me of you.

The Illyrians were inventors. They were pioneers. Perhaps somewhere, deep in this cold night, your people still exist. Perhaps their inventions whir under a different star. Perhaps they are on Illyria again. Perhaps you are too. Are you looking into this same cold night, thinking of me?

Or are you gone? Biological organisms always waste away. I have seen it, Muriel. I have seen your sister.

I have seen, too, what happened before I was deactivated. Illyrian bodies, beautiful things, wasting away in the wind. You had everything on Illyria. Great cities, technology to make other races weep. Why did you come here? This planet was the death of you.

Ah, you wanted to explore the universe. You found this planet, these people, and they looked almost like you. Their hair was white, but not as lustrous, and their eyes not the ever-shining ruby of yours, but smaller and of a red velvet shade. They didn't have great cities. They didn't have ships to pierce the darkness of space. And they did not build their servants from metal.

They were wild things, these humans.

They were the death of you.

Yet from death I created life. Would you like to see it, Muriel? What I have made for you?