To say that Ephraim was an odd little boy would be something of an understatement. He cut out newspaper clippings about boys who had the same first name as his, believing with unimaginable certainty that if he’d been born with a different surname, Thomas, Moldavano, Petersen, he’d have the power to change everything. This was only a small example of his unusual nature and not even the most telling.
He would only eat vegetables that began with the letter “R”, he would only sleep in a bed that was tilted on an axis of 45 degrees from due north, and he could sing all of the songs in the Standard Baptist Hymnal by repeating the words spelled backwards. These were some of his more telling oddities but hardly the extent of them.
He was, nevertheless, the only child of a very unique cybernetic organism named Delinestus V. Delinestus had been intended to be the ultimate expression of man’s technical expertise. He was, in many ways the successful realization since his adamantine form allowed him to survive the lethal doses of radiation expelled during the wars that rendered his creators extinct.
In time, Delinestus grew first bored and then lonely. Ephraim was his logical solution to a persistent existing shortfall. That he was a bit unusual mattered to no one, least of all his father. He was still the one and only son of the only sentient creature alive in a world of corpses.