His laboratory was an old wine cellar, but it worked better than anywhere else he could have used. Even as an inventor, his skills were a bit useless with humanity's current issues. The android trade was a luxurious one, and was more of a lost art than anything. It took months, or years at a time. Real inventors called their workspaces workshops. At least, that's what he had always thought. 

Blake's father had taught him the trade himself. It was a dying art, and the young man knew that. That was before Blake had to live by himself, because the riots in the cities were that bad. Some of the more densely populated cities had the military there to control activists. It was, they said, the government's fault for everything. It was their fault humans were going to all die. 

He had just finished. In the past, Blake had only ever constructed small doll-like robots, or ones that acted like animals. He had never tried to make a humanoid android before. But recently, it had been too much. He didn't want to be alone. The sepia world around him kept moving, but he felt dead. Every day was the same. Get water from the well when he was thirsty, lounge in bed or listen to the radio. 

Until he arrived in the county, he had never even known what a well was. Luckily, the seventeen-year-old was a fast learner. The wine cellar wasn't completely underground. The part that was his workshop was on ground level, though there were stairs that descended down that lead to the electric circuit. The teen had to turn the circuit on in order to trigger the energy source he had implanted in his creation. The electric current would go from the table into the robot, turning him on. 

After what seemed like a few minutes, the boy turned the power back off, knowing the android would have more than enough with his active battery. As he finally made his way to the top of the stairs, he got a good look at his creation, and even though he had looked human before, seeing him move around was phenomenal. He thanked his good fortune that he had kept all the books of the trade his Father had given to him.

Now, what should he do now? Blake had hair in several shades of chocolatey brown, and his dark brown eyes glittered with excitement as a wide smile spread across his face. He felt so much pride that he had made this robot. Fair skin, a boyish smile, and near trimmed mocha hair led to the inventor being quite the looker. If the works he had read were any proof, interaction with a K21 memory chip was vital. Treat him as normally as possible, otherwise he'll inherit bad behaviors. 

The robot was looking out the window when he first came along. "Like what you see? The stone architecture is nice, isn't it?" Then, kicking himself for being so dull added, "I'm Blake! I'm going to teach you everything you need to know... okay?"