It Is Over

I had the dream again.

I was walking in the abandoned factory. There were pieces of equipment everywhere, as before. The strange thing was that when I looked back at one again, it wasn't there. This had never ceased to unnerve me.
I was in a long corridor, and the walls were all a stainless clean white. I could almost smell what was unpleasantly like hospital sterilising spray.
I came to the end and flung open the door I found there. When I saw what lay beyond, I gasped.
There were three massive towers, reaching way, way up into the sky. Attached to each of the sides of the towers were pieces of junk, old machinery.
My blood chilled as I realised that it was the equipment I had passed in the factory.
It was at that point that  heard the voice. It was deep, yet high at the same time. It was insistent, urging, and what is worse, I wanted to respond to it.
"Come to me." It said. "Come to your maker."
This time, I did not resist. Rather, I went with joy and pride and excitement and happiness and sympathy and delight and cheer and exultation and mirth and-

I no longer feel them.

I joined my master and rose again. Now I stand in my room at the window, awake, observing the outside world with a detached emotionless outlook.

I wonder idly how much my family felt the pain as I killed them. It's not really important.

*****
Thoughtborn report to the King of the Tower.

Towerborn conversion complete.
All processes complete.
First test complete.
*****

I am Towerborn.