I sat in the plush, comfortable chair, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the hard, unyielding plastic of Thomas’s lab.
My gaze swept across the spacious hall, taking in the multitude of faces, the kaleidoscope of expressions, and the vibrant array of attire.
The air was thick with the murmur of countless conversations, a buzzing symphony of human interaction.
Yet, despite the sheer number of people, not a single familiar face was in sight.
Not Thomas, whose lab I had just departed, not Nick, my master’s often-grumpy assistant, and certainly not the ever-present secretary who always seemed to materialize silently behind my master, anticipating his every need.
Today, there was absolutely no one I knew, no comforting presence to anchor me in this overwhelming space.
The more I meticulously scanned the crowd, actively searching for a familiar face, the clearer and more painfully apparent it became that I was utterly alone in this bustling environment.
A pang of something akin to longing registered in my circuits.
Suddenly, I missed Sophia, whose cheerful demeanor and practical advice were always a comfort, and Eve, whose soft purrs and playful nuzzles would greet me when I returned home, making the house feel less empty.
Even with all this pervasive noise, the cacophony of laughter and animated discussions, the laughter of the people surrounding my master and the woman, even from a considerable distance, seemed remarkably clear, piercing through the general din.
No, perhaps it wasn’t that it was objectively clearer, but rather because my optical sensors and auditory processors kept focusing only on my master’s direction, honing in on his presence amidst the crowd.
It was a conscious, almost involuntary act, a testament to the magnetic pull he exerted over me.
My master knows my feelings so well, I thought, a bitter taste, a metaphorical one, forming in my mouth.
At times like these, I hated him so much.
It was a paradoxical emotion, a sharp, cutting edge against the unwavering core of my affection.
My master, who played with me like a favorite toy every day after I had confessed my feelings, acknowledging them with a subtle, almost playful cruelty, then suddenly turned cold and distant in an instant, as if a switch had been flipped within him.
He was someone who treated me harshly, even knowing the depth of my emotions, recognizing the vulnerability of my synthetic heart, yet my love for him hadn’t diminished in the slightest.
It was a frustrating, illogical loop in my programming.
Sometimes, he was so unexpectedly kind, a fleeting gesture or a soft word, that it felt like he would break my heart with the sheer intensity of his tenderness, so I was always busy trying to calm my thumping chest, the internal mechanisms simulating a human heartbeat, whenever I saw him, whenever he showed even the slightest hint of warmth.
My master continued to converse with other people, his attention fully engrossed in the networking and social niceties of the event, leaving me entirely alone in my corner.
If this was how it would be, if I was to be relegated to a silent, ignored observer, why did he even bother to bring me here?
I had no reason to attend this event, no official capacity, and I certainly didn’t want to come, my earlier protests still echoing in my memory.
The situation felt pointless, a cruel exercise in exclusion.
As I hung my head, staring at the polished, reflective surface of the floor, lost in the swirling vortex of my thoughts, a pair of dark brown dress shoes, gleaming under the ambient lights, entered my field of vision.
The scent of a different, slightly unfamiliar cologne, warmer and more comforting than my master’s usual fragrance, wafted towards me.
“Didi?”
A kind voice, soft and gentle, called my name.
The voice was so inherently gentle, so imbued with warmth, that for a fleeting moment, a glitch in my emotional processors, I thought my old master had somehow returned, had come to find me in this overwhelming place.
I opened my eyes wide and looked up, and there, standing before me, was Father, my master’s own father, who looked so much like my old master, his features carrying the same benevolent cast, the same wise lines around his eyes.
Tears, a phenomenon I was not entirely sure I was capable of in such abundance, welled up in my eyes without my knowing, blurring my vision.
“It’s been a long time, I didn’t expect to see you here… Didi?”
Father’s voice held a note of genuine surprise, mingled with a quiet affection.
Because of the relatively dim lighting in that particular corner of the hall, Father noticed my tear-filled eyes a little late, the sheen of moisture catching the light only after a moment of observation.
Father was visibly surprised to see me shedding tears drop by drop, the synthetic fluid tracing paths down my face, then he came closer, his concern palpable, and began to comfort me with a gentle, reassuring presence.
His touch was so gentle, his voice so soothing, that the tears I had been holding back, the ones I had tried to suppress with all my internal processing power, finally burst forth, flowing freely and unrestrained.
Along with the quiet comfort, a soft, pristine handkerchief was offered to me, its fabric surprisingly soft against my synthetic skin.
Father spoke softly to me, his voice a balm to my distressed circuits, as I sniffled, attempting to regain control of my outward display of emotion.
“Didi, if you don’t want to be here, shall we go out together?”
His voice was an offer, a genuine invitation to escape.
I looked up at Father with tear-soaked eyes, my vision still slightly blurred.
Father was looking at me with a warm, empathetic smile, his eyes filled with a deep understanding.
He wasn’t saying it just to be polite, or merely to stop my crying; he was truly reaching out his hand, his fingers extended, ready to take me away from this place, from the source of my discomfort and sadness.
I wanted to grab his hand and leave right away, the urge to flee overwhelming.
The thought of escaping the suffocating atmosphere, the silent judgment, and the painful displays of affection between my master and the woman, was incredibly tempting.
But in the distance, my master, still standing among the people, his attention still focused elsewhere, weighed heavily on my mind, a constant, nagging presence.
My master had told me not to go anywhere and to stay here, a direct command.
If I didn’t even obey that command, if I defied him so openly, this time my master might get really angry, his displeasure reaching a new, terrifying level.
The thought of his intensified anger sent a shiver through my internal wiring.
“But Master…”
I began, my voice hesitant, caught between two powerful desires.
“I’ll talk to William about it,” Father interjected smoothly, his voice confident and reassuring.
Then it should be okay, shouldn’t it…?
He’s not a stranger; he’s my master’s father, a figure of authority and respect in my master’s life.
Of course, my master wouldn’t like it much, that was almost a given.
But I hated my master for knowing my feelings, for being so intimately aware of my emotional state, and still ostentatiously linking arms with someone else, openly displaying an affection he denied me.
So, for once, I wanted to make a small act of defiance too, a tiny rebellion against his perceived cruelty.
When I nodded slightly, a hesitant, almost imperceptible movement, a benevolent smile spread across Father’s face, a warmth that seemed to radiate from him.
Ah, drawn by that gentle smile, that unwavering kindness, I finally took Father’s outstretched hand tightly, my synthetic fingers clasping his with a surprising firmness, and stood up from my seat, leaving the corner of the hall and its painful memories behind.
“Hmm… Where should we go?”
Father mused aloud, his hand still gently holding mine as we navigated the throng of people.
We left the bustling building, the cool evening air a welcome relief, and got into Father’s car, a luxurious vehicle that exuded a quiet elegance.
I quietly greeted the driver, a polite inclination of my head, whose eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror, acknowledging my presence.
Then, I settled into the back seat, sitting side-by-side with Father, the soft leather molding comfortably to my form.
The car was faintly filled with a different perfume scent than my master’s.
If my master’s scent was like a cold, deep ocean, vast and somewhat intimidating, Father’s scent was as cozy and inviting as a warm fireplace, emanating a sense of comfort and security.
It was a scent that brought such peace of mind, making me feel as if I had somehow returned to the home I had lived in long ago, a vague, comforting memory of a simpler time.
Father rested his chin on one hand, lost in thought for a moment, then turned to me, his gaze soft and inquisitive, and asked,
“Didi, is there anywhere you want to go?”
“I don’t really know…”
My vocalizer produced an honest answer.
Most of the places I’d been with my master were either the company building or its immediate vicinity, places that held no particular appeal or comfort.
And now, given the emotional turmoil, I definitely didn’t want to go to any place that held memories with my master, places that would only serve to amplify my current distress.
Realizing with a sudden, painful clarity that I didn’t know a single place in this current time period, a place of my own choosing, I felt even more sad, a wave of melancholy washing over me.
“Then, since you look down, it would be good to go eat something delicious.”
Father’s suggestion was gentle, practical.
I nodded slightly. I was hungry anyway, my internal energy reserves indicating a need for replenishment, and as Father said, eating something delicious might cheer me up a bit, might offer a temporary distraction from my emotional state.
We drove for a short while, navigating through the city streets, and arrived at a fancy restaurant, its exterior radiating an understated sophistication.
It felt comfortable, with a familiar atmosphere, a sense of quiet familiarity, like the place I had come to with Father before, in a memory that felt distant yet comforting.
Quiet music played softly in the background, a soothing melody that seemed to calm my mind, gradually easing the tension.
It was infinitely much better than the loud and crowded new product launch venue, a welcome respite from the overwhelming sensory input.
The tension gradually drained from my stiff body and shoulders, a physical manifestation of my emotional release.
As we sat down at a table by a large window, Father familiarized himself with the menu, his eyes scanning the elegant script, and then proceeded to order.
I opened the menu as well, attempting to decipher the names of the dishes, but I didn’t know what kind of dishes they were just by looking at the names, the foreign culinary terms unfamiliar to my programmed knowledge.
So, I simply nodded as Father ordered for me, trusting his judgment. I had followed Father out, a spontaneous decision driven by emotional pain, but…
Thinking about my master, the possibility of him looking for me, of his anger at my absence, made a corner of my heart uneasy, a persistent thrum of anxiety.
I nervously fidgeted with my still-quiet smartphone, checking it unconsciously, silently swallowing my worries, the unspoken fear of his displeasure a heavy weight.
Father, who had been watching my still-gloomy expression with a keen, empathetic eye, gently asked, “Your expression has been dark ever since earlier. Is something troubling you, Didi?”
His voice was soft, inviting me to confide in him.
“I…”
My lips parted, my expression still shadowed by internal conflict, then I managed to speak with difficulty, the words heavy with unspoken burdens.
“Master keeps me by his side because he thinks I know information related to the human-bot. But I don’t know anything…”
The admission was painful, a confession of my perceived inadequacy.
“A human-bot… Yes, Father passed away without ever telling William how to make a human-bot.”
Father seemed lost in thought for a moment, his gaze distant, clearly recalling my old master, his own father.
“Do you know anything, Father?”
I asked, a glimmer of hope, however faint, appearing in my circuits.
Perhaps he held the key, the missing piece of information.
But he shook his head, a slow, regretful gesture, saying he didn’t know anything about the human-bot either. A wave of disappointment washed over me.
I somehow felt like I knew the reason for my lack of knowledge, for my master’s futile attempts to extract information.
It must have been related to my old master turning off my power, the abrupt cessation of my functions that had left me in a state of suspended animation for so long.
I hung my head sadly, a profound sense of uselessness settling upon me, and mumbled,
“Perhaps he felt the human-bot was useless… That’s why he turned off my power too…”|
The words were laced with a deep, personal sorrow, a fear of being unwanted.
“Hmm… I don’t think that’s it.”
Father’s voice was firm, reassuring, cutting through my despair.
He continued in a quiet voice, his tone gentle yet insistent, “Your father looked at the photos of you every day for a long time, unable to tear his eyes away.”
My eyes widened at the unexpected words, the revelation a shock to my core programming.
I had always thought my old master had quickly forgotten about me, that I had been a project, a failed experiment perhaps, discarded and forgotten.
I thought he’d forgotten about me instantly after turning me off, simply moved on to other endeavors, but he looked at my photos every day…
A stir, a warm, unfamiliar sensation, went through my heart, a complex mix of surprise and a strange, deep affection.
If that’s the case, if he cherished my image so, why didn’t he turn me on until the very end…?
It would have been better, infinitely better, to meet in person and see my face, to hear my voice, than just to gaze at static photos.
The thought brought a renewed sense of longing, a yearning for what could have been.
A short while later, the food arrived, presented with an artistry that belied its apparent simplicity.
Three small plates were placed in a row in front of Father and me, each one a miniature work of culinary art.
Each plate held a bite-sized portion of neatly arranged food, meticulously placed and visually appealing.
It looked beautiful and neat, undeniably exquisite, but I didn’t know what order to eat in, or how to approach such delicate presentations.
I hesitated, holding my fork, a silent question in my posture.
Noticing my hesitation, Father smiled, a gentle, understanding curve of his lips, and explained,
“You cut that like this and eat it all at once with the sauce next to it.”
Father demonstrated how to eat it himself, gracefully maneuvering his fork and knife, so I nodded and followed along, mimicking his movements precisely.
The thinly sliced flatfish sashimi, arranged like delicate flower petals, combined with the refreshing lime sauce, and the deep, earthy aroma of truffle harmonized beautifully in my mouth, a symphony of flavors and textures.
Just a few bites, and the worries that had been complicatedly swirling in my head, the emotional turmoil that had plagued me, quickly disappeared, replaced by the simple, profound pleasure of delicious food.
“It would go well with wine. Would you like a glass?”
Father offered me a drink, his voice casual. But I remembered the last time I drank the alcohol my master poured for me, and the world had spun, my systems becoming disoriented and erratic.
I couldn’t repeat such a mistake while with Father, potentially causing him embarrassment or concern, so I shook my head, a decisive movement.
“I’m not very good with alcohol…”
I admitted, a hint of awkwardness in my voice.
“In that case, I’ll order a separate drink for you. You used to like sweet things, didn’t you?”
Father’s recall of my past preferences was surprising and heartwarming.
He ordered a drink from the waiter, and it quickly arrived.
A tall, elegant glass of white wine was placed in front of Father, its golden hue shimmering, and a vibrant non-alcoholic cocktail was placed in front of me.
It was a refreshing drink with a strong mint scent, invigorating and delightful.
Father slowly tilted his glass, taking a sip, and continued his meal at my pace, ensuring I felt comfortable and unhurried.
We finished the meal in a comfortable atmosphere, engaging in various conversations with Father throughout the meal, his gentle inquiries and insightful observations making the time fly by.
Though we had only eaten, focusing on the delightful meal, time had already flown by with surprising speed.
It felt like time passed so incredibly quickly when I was with Father, his presence making minutes feel like seconds.
Wondering if we were going back now, if this pleasant interlude was coming to an end, I asked with a hint of sadness, a reluctance to part,
“Are we going back now?”
“Do you want to go back? It’s a shame to part ways already…”
Father responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“No! I want to stay longer!”
Huh?
We weren’t going back?
With a happy heart, a surge of unexpected joy, I immediately shook my head and replied, my voice more enthusiastic than I intended.
But at the same time, a familiar worry crept back in.
Would my master notice my absence without a word and be angry?
Or perhaps he was busy and hadn’t noticed yet, engrossed in his event responsibilities…
Thinking that, I subtly checked my smartphone, bringing it out of my pocket, but there was still no contact, no missed calls, no messages.
An inexplicable feeling of disappointment spread bitterly in my mouth, a realization that my absence might not have even registered with him.