Andre made the long trek down the thin strip of red carpet that lead to the only piece of furniture in the room- an oversized throne. Up close, he could see the dials and complicated looking machinery that covered it. Six feet tall and four feet wide, it dwarfed the man that had curled up in it like a grotesque adult fetus. Andre knew that the throne had been filled with as many of the advances in medicine that could be crammed into such a space. The man sitting there no longer had to worry about eating, drinking, or waste disposal. All of that happened without thought as as naturally as breathing. Wires and cords from the throne obscenely entered and exited places all over the man’s body. The throne was an integral part of him. Without it, he would die.

He knelt before the man who gave no sign that he was aware of Andre’s presence. “Fatur, I’m here. I’ve come as you asked.”

The thing on the throne stirred slightly, eyelids spasming but never quite opening. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Andre. I’ve come home.”