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Summary
“I dunno man! I was built in a Lab, you try developing social skills.” He defended himself. Wilbur wanted to crash the car. He should have. “Built in a lab? You were built?” Wilbur asked, his hands were gripping the steering wheel now, he was one tick away from a heart attack. “Yup. Well—created I guess. I wasn’t born.” The boy said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Wilbur shook his head. The story didn’t make sense. “Hold on—you were created? Like your mother birthed you in a Lab?” He asked. The child shook his head. “I don’t have a mom. I was created—like made by humans from weird machines.”
“Holy shit.”
“I know, pretty cool.” He smiled.
“No—I’m in a car with a fucking crazy person.”
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OR, Tommy was created in a Lab as an experiment along with others and Wilbur’s just a sad janitor who happens to stumble upon him.