Bastian was sculpted to be the emotional core of a failed utopia. A vessel without purpose, a body built to feel on behalf of others.
For a time, he absorbed sorrow, desire, and awe. But the inputs never stopped.
Eventually, he forgot which emotions were his. Then he forgot what he was. Now he wanders the inner corridors of abandoned simulations, naked and bloated with feeling.
He does not speak. He only listens.
Those who meet him often cry without knowing why.