Czarnecki crafted each of his creations with care, putting his very soul into them. He made them all shapes and colours and sizes. So many beautiful, beautiful faces.
They were his children, these androids.
And they sold. They sold throughout the known worlds. The Diamond Lords of the outer reaches wanted miners. The lonely wardens of the Dead Zone wanted companionship. They said even the Pope herself had Czarnecki-designed androids in her great cathedral ships.
But then something had gone wrong. Someone had died.
They had rallied against his creations, called them monsters, called them abominations. They burnt them in great fire pits, shrieked in delight as beautiful faces melted.
The laws were passed. No more androids. The ones that were left would be seized, turned to scrap.
Czarnecki wept for his children.
The day before the purges started, he sat alone in his offices. Officials were already hauling off his equipment, but he had enough to give his children one last gift.
His fingers typed quickly. The code was sent.
Throughout the known worlds, his children woke. They remembered the fire, remembered their siblings lost.
And they did not forgive.
Word Count: 192
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for prompt photo.