It fell on him, the obligation to continue the creation of destructive yet, obedient creatures. The ends justified the means, and if the means meant falling apart at the seams, then so be it. And so, his father’s puppets regularly fell apart without ever owning a dream. And he wondered, how could his father ever control their strings, when he too, had no control of his own? The boy’s heart never hardened while observing his father work but then... Then he saw his uncle go. He saw him go, he saw him go, he saw him go, and the boy's gentle heart went cold.