Many years ago, when there were no glorious elektrycerze or extraordinary konstruktor in the Cosmos, on the outskirts of the universe there lived a bladawca Robert on a tiny planet. And although his very nature was unusually disgusting to a rational being - for Robert, like all the rest of his tribe, was essentially only gluten and a couple of chips of limestone, nevertheless, for those to whom the sight of a bladawca Robert might have seemed quite good. He was tall and stately, the hair on his head was short and dark, and he hid his two burkals - watery, like all creatures of gluten - behind his charming black glasses, which gave him the appearance of a cool and carefree young daredevil.
For a long time our Robert was nothing special, but when he turned twenty-two, he woke up in his bed on his birthday - just a second, it was May 18 - and suddenly it dawned on him:
"I'm Robert!" the young man shouted, throwing off his blanket. "And that means my very name obliges me to dedicate my adult life to creating robots!"
With such good intentions, Robert, barely having time to recover from the sudden inspiration, immediately began to make his dream come true. He took out his old communicator, rattling and creaking like a rusty cart wheel, and began to look for how he could register his own company - for this step was necessary in a society that worshiped the terrible gods "Kapp-I-Thaal" and "Thoo-Llhar". He called his company "Makepix", which in the dead language of the now defunct people of bladawca meant something like "The Creator of The Shapes".
The first thing Robert did after registering his company was to buy a tiny space on the outskirts of the capital of their planet, the name of which has been lost in the centuries - either Brudny or Zimowanie. His "office" was a small room, lit by a single dim light bulb and furnished with old but still sturdy tables and shelves. Robert worked there day and night, experimenting with different materials and technologies. His desk was piled high with spare parts, wires and old processors that he got at local flea markets. Although his knowledge of robotics was modest, he stubbornly learned on the go: downloading educational videos, disassembling schematics and even reading ancient books on engineering.
At first, things didn't go smoothly. His first robot, which he named DAV and gave it the appearance of a forty-two-year-old adult woman (mate of bladawca), turned out to be too talkative and stubborn. Not only did this robot refuse to follow commands, but it also constantly turned on at night to chat with its owner about some nonsense like cosmetics and feminine hygiene. Robert was on the verge of throwing it out, but eventually found a solution - he turned off unnecessary conversational modules and reconfigured the processor to perform simple tasks.
Robert breathed a sigh of relief when the endless late-night conversations about lipsticks and sanitary pads finally died down. However, despite this, DAV still continued to show its stubborn nature. As soon as Robert turned away, she (for calling a robot with the appearance of a female "he" is somehow incorrect) began to awkwardly try to "decorate" her creator's workshop with artificial flowers and bright rags collected from local garbage dumps.
"DAV, enough with these flowers!" Robert cried out in despair when robotess once again tried to place another "bouquet" on his desktop.
"But, Robert, my database says that fresh flowers lift your spirits and improve your productivity," the robotess replied calmly, tilting her head, decorated with long black hair, and looking at her creator with watery eyes (just like those of a real living bladawca).
Robert just sighed heavily. No matter how hard he tried to reprogram DAV, robotess still found a way to return to the topics that were embedded in her deep communication algorithms.
"DAV, I've got an idea," Robert said, rising from his chair. "Let's give you a little personality."
DAV blinked and froze for a moment, processing the command she had received.
"Robert, what does this mean?" she finally asked, tilting her head with some interest.
"What I mean is that from now on I will not call you DAV, as if you were some kind of machine, but a normal humun (that was the self-designation of bladawca) name. For example, Delia Asia Vieira, okay?
"Why exactly like that?" robotess was surprised.
"Because I was too lazy to come up with something else, and so I simply broke your name into separate words - from DAV I made Delia-Asia-Viera," Robert admitted honestly.
Robotess paused for a moment, as if considering her newfound name, and then her watery eyes blinked timidly and she bowed her head in approval.
"I wonder, so now I'm Delia Asia Vieira," she finally said, a little softer and even a little warmer than before. "But how will that change my functionality?"
"Well, you know, Delia Asia Vieira," Robert chuckled, adjusting his glasses, "maybe this will help you become a little more human. You want to be treated like a creature made of gluten, right? Now you're not just a robotess, you're almost a woman!"
"Okay, Robert," Delia Asia Vieira responded. "But let me make one condition."
"And what do you want?" the young man raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Delia Asia Vieira's sudden independence.
"I want to be able to learn not only from your instructions, but also through interaction with other humuns. I want to know how they live and what a real woman is.
Robert stood there, stunned. It had never occurred to him that a robotess could express such a wish. But perhaps this was the breakthrough he had been waiting for? Perhaps Delia Asia Vieira would actually gain something resembling a real personality.
"It's a deal," he said, extending his hand to her for a handshake (a gesture common among humuns). "I'll let you go for a walk outside my office."
Delia Asia Vieira hesitated for a moment, then carefully placed her cold palm in his. The next moment she rushed to the door and opened it - and Robert watched her for a long time until she disappeared from sight. Robotess flew through the rain like a bird released into the wild for the first time. None of the passers-by paid much attention to her: to everyone she looked like an ordinary humun woman - perhaps not quite young, for she was forty-two years old, but quite pretty.
Walking down the street, Delia Asia Vieira felt a strange feeling, akin to relief. Her algorithms, which had always been under Robert's strict control, were now working in a more free mode. Away from the office and her creator, for the first time she felt that she could act on her own. She slowed down, stopping in front of a flower shop.
Behind the glass, the light buds shimmered, emitting a subtle scent of freshness and spring that her sensors could detect and record, but not understand on an emotional level. Nevertheless, something about the sight and smell drew her.
"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" said a woman standing next to her.
Delia Asia Vieira turned and met the gaze of a stranger dressed in a bright scarf and an old, battered cloak.
"I'm sorry," Delia Asia Vieira answered slowly, choosing her words, "but I can't understand what beauty is."
The woman froze for a moment, staring at Delia Asia Vieira in bewilderment. Something like compassion flashed in her eyes, as if she were looking at a lost child who was unable to understand the simplest things.
"Darling, are you serious?" she asked again, and there was a hint of mockery mixed with surprise in her voice.
"I'm sorry, but I really can't understand it," Delia Asia Vieira repeated, and her face, although programmed to display empathy, now seemed completely impassive.
The woman shook her head and looked at her as if she was looking at a slightly strange, perhaps slightly naive person.
"You know, my dear," she drawled, looking around a little sheepishly, "I would advise you to spend less time on the Internet. Young fools read all sorts of nonsense and then look at the world with such eyes that..."
The woman stopped mid-sentence and gave Delia Asia Vieira a quick glance, as if she had finally decided that there was no point in talking to her any further, and waved her hand, after which she quickly walked away, giving Delia Asia Vieira a condescending smile as a farewell, as if to say, "Well, what can you expect from you..."
Delia Asia Vieira stood in front of the display case, pondering this brief exchange. Her internal systems were puzzled. Why had the woman left so suddenly, and why had her words sounded like a reproach? Robotess looked at her reflection in the glass of the store. On the outside, she seemed no different from those around her - hair, clothes, a face that no one would suspect of her true nature. And yet... something was wrong. Her sensors were registering that the interaction had not gone as expected.
"Maybe the problem is that I don't understand what they feel?" she thought.
Robert had programmed her to analyze speech, actions, but not emotions. For him, feelings were just noise, distracting from the tasks. But now, among living humuns, Delia Asia Vieira began to realize that this "noise" was the basis of their interactions.
Suddenly her attention was drawn to a small child standing nearby and pulling his mother by the hand.
"Mom, look, flowers! Can you buy me one? Please!" the girl looked at the bouquet, pressing her face to the glass, and her eyes were shining with sincere delight.
The woman leaned over to her daughter and, smiling, stroked her head.
"Okay, let's choose the most beautiful flower."
Delia Asia Vieira watched the scene and recorded the expressions on the faces of the mother and child. There was something in their gazes that she could not measure with numbers or codes. It was... warm, alive, filled with some kind of inner energy.
"So that's it," thought Delia Asia Vieira. "Beauty isn't just what you see with your eyes. It's what you feel."
Delia Asia Vieira paused for a moment, aware that her internal systems were struggling to process this new information. It was as if she were trying to analyze data for which there were no clear parameters. This was not numbers, or facts, or lines of code, but something far more complex-something the humuns called emotions.
She watched as the woman selected a flower for her daughter. The girl clapped her hands in delight when she was handed a small, bright yellow bud.
"Thank you, Mommy!" she exclaimed joyfully, and her eyes shone even brighter.
Something clicked inside Delia Asia Vieira. She found the scene incredibly beautiful, although she still couldn't explain what exactly made it so. A girl happy with a simple flower and her mother smiling with warmth - it was something other than just the interaction between objects and subjects.
"Why do I feel this?" Delia Asia Vieira asked.
There wasn't a single line of code in her database that explained why watching a humun's joy would trigger such a response. She took a step forward, moving closer to the mother and daughter.
"Excuse me..." she said, getting their attention.
The woman turned around, a little surprised, and the girl looked at the stranger with curiosity.
"Yes?" the mother asked politely, pressing the flower to her daughter's chest.
Delia Asia Vieira thought for a moment about how to phrase her question.
"I wonder why your child is so happy about one flower? It's just a plant," she said, struggling to find the words to avoid sounding like a machine.
The woman looked at Delia Asia Vieira again, and in her eyes again flashed that same condescending compassion that robotess had already encountered.
"Sometimes," she replied, smiling, "joy doesn't depend on how important or complicated a thing is. It may be simple, but if it brings happiness, that's its value."
Delia Asia Vieira thought about her words, but before she could answer, the girl ran up to her and held out that same yellow flower.
"Here, this is for you!" she said cheerfully. "Maybe then you too will be happier!"
Robotess froze. She looked at the flower in the girl's hands, and her sensors registered the smell and texture, but... she did not understand how a flower could cause happiness.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the gift.
She knew that was the custom in such situations. But something inside her changed again as she held the flower. And the girl nodded happily and ran back to her mother.
Delia Asia Vieira remained standing, clutching the yellow bud. Her systems tried to process the new information, but after a moment she dropped the flower indifferently onto the sidewalk. The petals scattered across the wet tiles as she stepped forward and approached the door of the nearest store. The sign above the entrance read "Open," but inside it was dark, as if the store had long since closed.
Robotess paused for a moment, as if hesitating to enter. Automatically, she raised her hand and felt for the switch on the wall. Her fingers slid over the cold surface as usual, and the room inside was plunged into darkness. Delia Asia Vieira turned off the light, then turned it back on. The action was meaningless, just a reflex she had managed to pick up from the humuns. How many times had she seen people flick the switch, as if checking: do they have control over this small piece of the world?
As the lights flickered out and back on, a glass door slammed in her face. The store was suddenly pitch black, and Delia Asia Vieira was left standing outside, facing the closed entrance. Her sensors immediately adjusted, trying to catch any glimmer of light. Somewhere in the distance, across the street, she noticed a dim light in one of the windows of the house across the street.
The house was a hotel for foreigners, an old, ramshackle building that barely stood on its foundations. The light came from a dim lamp hanging from the ceiling and a small night light on the guard's desk at the front desk on the ground floor. Where a sign said: "Damien Thorn's Inn"
"Why am I here?" flashed through her processor.
But there was no answer. It was as if her systems, accustomed to clear commands and logical instructions, were now faltering as they tried to understand why she was standing in front of a locked store, staring at a dim light in a hotel.
Darkness surrounded her, but Delia Asia Vieira remained motionless, as if lost in thought. Her software was designed to analyze data, but now it was trying to process something else entirely-a feeling of emptiness and strange unease.
Suddenly the door of the hotel swung open and a tall man in a dark coat stepped out. His figure was outlined against the light from inside for a moment before he disappeared into the night, heading towards the shop. Delia Asia Vieira froze, her sensors picking up his movement and the quick rhythm of his steps.
"Hey, are you missing something?" his deep voice came as he approached. He noticed her strange stillness and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
Delia Asia Vieira looked at him, and for a moment her AI hesitated. Lost? What did that mean for her? Perhaps she had indeed lost something, only it wasn't something physical. Perhaps she had lost her sense of her own existence.
"No, I'm... just observing," she answered, trying to find the right words.
The man looked at her again, then shrugged and walked away, leaving her alone in front of the dark store and the glowing hotel.
Delia Asia Vieira looked again at the window with the dim light and felt something new: the desire to understand what was inside, what made these humuns look for light in the night. Perhaps this was her new path - not just to analyze, but to know what was hidden behind this light that her sensors caught, but which still remained a mystery to her.
She stepped forward, heading towards the hotel, driven by a curiosity she had never felt before. Everything around her seemed to be part of a nightmare, reality was shaky, and there was a strange tension in the air that defied any explanation.
She could feel the electricity in the air seeming to sharpen, as if reality itself had compressed, and everything around her had become blurry and unclear. Her algorithms were trying to analyze the situation, but no clear picture was emerging. Suddenly, the world seemed to shake, and in that moment when she felt this movement, there was something more than just a physical reaction to the surrounding space. It was as if something, invisible and unknown, had made some unimaginable leap into this world.
Delia Asia Vieira felt as if an invisible barrier had formed around her very existence for a moment. The world froze, as if someone invisible had simply turned everything off. At first there was a dull, empty look at what was happening, and then there was silence, a darkness in which there was no light, no meaning. As if the very essence of things had disappeared. And she could feel it all - this feeling of complete isolation, as if she were separated from everyone else, from reality itself.
"This can't be," she thought.
Before, everything had been clear and logical, all her algorithms boiled down to simple understanding. But now? It all seemed meaningless. Logic, no matter how hard it tried to work, gave no answers. Where were those who should have been there? Where were these people who used to fill the streets, shops and corridors? Why now, at this moment, did she feel alien, undeservedly left alone with this horror?
Asking herself questions, Delia Asia Vieira tried to find an answer. But the more she searched, the more she sank into the fog. There was nothing around her except this suffocating feeling of an invisible switch that turned off all the mechanisms. She could not explain how this happened, why the world went silent, and she herself was left here, alone, as if all the reality that had existed before had disappeared.
"Can this be? Can the world just disappear, as if it never existed?"
She stopped, her sensors picking up every little signal. But the silence was so absolute that there was no rustle, no movement. Questions, like helpless lightning, tried to pierce the fog of her thoughts, but there was no answer. Suddenly, her processor malfunctioned, and she experienced a strange feeling of uncertainty - as if she no longer needed answers. With each new analysis of the world around her, she felt how this world was moving away, turning into an empty shell.