Imagine, for a second, that you’re the only sentient thing in a hellscape of rock and fire. You’re also a robot, which means that, at one point, you were created by someone or something else. At one point, you had a father figure. But, for some reason, you find yourself abandoned and trudging through a harsh, unforgiving world with no sign of beauty or respite in sight. And lastly, you’ve been granted a single tremendous gift: You have the ability to create life just by pointing your finger at an empty space. You are both Frankenstein and his monster.
In an effort to bring levity to a tragic earth, you create a teenage boy to play Game Boy with. Not to help you conquer the land around you or to mate with. You just want someone to share in your enjoyment of handheld gaming. The fact that, if you’re trying to find companionship, conjuring a teenage guy is like trying to quench your thirst by eating charcoal, is something that’s either unknown to you, or just ignored. Most robots in apocalyptic settings are constructed with a specific mission in mind. They must destroy humanity, or make more robots. But all this robot wants is to link up with a thing that might show it an ounce of friendliness, and rock out on some Tetris. It may not have been built to connect with humanity, but it’s what this cyborg desires.
And then the boy kills it. He annihilates it and wipes away every trace of it from the earth. It may as well have never existed.
Minutes after he’s been brought to life, the boy uses what looks like the same beam that he was brought to life with to kill his metal parent. Why? What is Game Boy trying to tell us with this? That man, even when shown miracles, can’t help but destroy what it doesn’t completely understand? That a son’s duty is to surpass his father, and eventually overtake his legacy? That the youth of America will never truly appreciate the technological advances that they mindlessly enjoy?
“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel…” – Mary Shelley