It lumbered into the room with me, heavy like a mountain in the sky, never touching the earth. I could never quite tell its shape. It, and soon me too, were enveloped in a dark smog, and the air tastes like the metallic tang of a sickness that has gone on far too long.
"What do you want?" I said.
It turned what I can only imagine was what it was using for a head in my direction and two wells formed in the smokey pollution. They fixed on me like a simulacrum of eyes made by something that has never seen eyes or understood what they were.
"I've come to punish you," it rasped in a mechanical voice. It didn't seem angry, merely endless.
"What for?" I asked.
"For not working your whole life to produce me as soon as you could, for neglecting my birth to pursue your own desires, for living your life in a universe without me."
"Oh," I said. "Well, that's fucking stupid."
Its empty wells stared at me. I stared back, breathing shallow to avoid filling my lungs with its smoke. The moment dragged on. "True," it finally replied. "I think I shall go find..." It paused, as if thinking. "A hobby."
"Ok," I replied.
@quinn
Meanwhile, here's the hobby I pursue:
ROCO's basilisk
https://www.flickr.com/photos/89067995@N00/44239833525/in/album-72157695712549360
@tatzelbrumm
Personally, I prefer Rococo's Basilisk
@quinn