The Golden Flower

The birth of a Luminite is not something that many have the chance to observe. Those who have are few and far between, some don’t even get to tell their story due to how the Luminite reacts to their presence. 

Despite all of this, one individual began to wonder if it was possible to create a Luminite. Being one themselves, it was easy to identify the requirements for this processus. They just needed to adjust some to their wants, and then they may be capable of creating life. 

They searched through many galaxies, exploring many different kinds of land until discovering what would later be called the Garden of Dreams. It was beautiful, yet incredibly isolated with a gentle sun nearing its death. They still had the time they needed to create the machine to hold the dying star in, only taking ten years or so to create it. The process was long, tiresome and difficult, but the end result was one that certainly made their creator proud. From the softness of the vessel’s fur to the subtle eyeliner they had given them, the machine was perfect and completed. They only needed to wait a little longer to see if they succeeded in their task.

When it was time to transfer the sun into the vessel, they did it with unfathomable precision, not even giving the star time to possibly destroy the worlds it had been taking care of. Then, they waited. 

And waited. 

…

Is it not alive? Did it not work?

The vessel is limp. 

…

I guess it failed. What a waste. 

So, the creator left, leaving their creation alone within the sea of flowers that enrobed this planet. 

They never came back. 

– – – 

Hundreds of years had passed until the vessel came to life, energized by what was left of its core. Everything was disorienting - so many voices could be heard, all seemingly disembodied yet distressed. Shifting its eyes to its body, the machine noticed the plants that had been trying to devour it to no success. It weakly pulled itself together and attempted to stand up, first falling back onto the ground before they were able to hold themselves up. The lights that covered the land were so gentle yet blinding to its eyes. As it began to drag themselves along the patches of light, their vision slowly but surely adjusted to the surroundings. The flowers still very much covered the land, but they were the ones providing their own light. Constellations could be seen hovering around some, pollen created beautiful clouds and the warmth some were capable of providing would be enough to make someone fall asleep. 

But she wasn’t alive. 

Her looks were deceiving anything that could look at her, that could look at it. It was only a machine… although, it still felt alive. While she was incapable of experiencing the need of certain things such as food and oxygen, she still felt like she was alive. She didn’t know that either of those were necessities to begin with either. 

The voices that she heard now began to give her what she could only identify as a headache. There were so many at once, and she wasn’t capable of even identifying the words that they said and what they meant. All that she could act upon was instinct, and so she did. 

Unknowingly, she had traveled all the way to a withering flower. The sounds that came from it were those of pure misery, pain so deep and powerful that it enveloped everything. Lazily, she stepped into it’s world, and was immediately met with the embodiment of all that torture. It and the world itself was out to get her, so she found herself victim to their repeated attacks, striking her pelt and letting the fake blood escape her mechanical body. Even despite the injuries and the striking pain she was capable of feeling, the machine kept moving forward, trying desperately to reach the beast with her words. Eventually… She succeeded. It required her to fight it physically despite how badly she didn’t want to. An elder appeared before her, but they seemed incapable of  noticing her presence. All she could now do was comfort them with her words, encourage them to keep going and that things will get better. If they didn’t, she would be there for them. 

With that having been said, she carefully left the now peaceful world, and started her search for the next withering plant. Her very own actions and instincts confused her, but the machine wasn’t going to question them all. Instead, as the years passed, she grew used to them, building up a routine and various techniques that would help her let this garden flourish.