"Where is everyone?" she thought, peering into the empty store windows, reflecting doubts and fears that could not be part of her program.
These feelings would be too complex for her, but their presence was undeniable. It took a few moments before she realized that perhaps she had long ago stopped looking for people and had begun looking for something else-something deeper. Maybe her presence in this world was not a mistake, but simply an inevitable part of something greater.
"If there are no people, if there are no answers... maybe the point is not to find an explanation, but to learn to live without it?"
And at that moment, a man suddenly came out from around the corner - blond, with a hurried expression on his face, as if he was in a hurry to say something important.
"Delia, you can't do this! You know..." his voice sounded almost desperate. "I love you! And I want to marry you!"
She froze, unsure how to respond. The man was clearly sincere, but his words were foreign. She didn't remember ever meeting him. Who was he?
"Excuse me?" Delia Asia Vieira said, raising an eyebrow in surprise and trying to understand what the hell was going on.
The man sighed in response, as if disappointed by her reaction, and shook his head slightly, but continued with the same persistence:
"Don't you recognize me? I'm Alexander, Alexander York, your brother!" His voice now sounded with a slight hint of despair, as if he was sure she should remember him.
Delia Asia Vieira glanced at him again. He looked as if he expected her to confess immediately, and she... couldn't remember anything that connected her to this man.
"Brother?" Delia Asia Vieira repeated slowly, unsure if she had heard correctly. "I'm sorry, I... don't remember you."
She tried to remain polite, although she felt a growing sense of bewilderment. His words did not match her memories. How could she possibly have a relative among the humuns, being a robot? But even if he was a brother - if not hers, then at least her creator Robert's - then why was he acting so strangely? Why was he so insistent on their relationship?
Alexander looked at her again, a momentary spark of disappointment flashing across his face. But he did not give up.
"How is that possible? We spent so much time together when you were little. You visited us during the summer holidays! We played together, remember? - It was as if he was trying to awaken memories in her, fishing for answers from her memory.
Delia Asia Vieira felt the tension inside her increase. She didn't really remember this man, and every look and word he said only made her feel more and more alienated from this situation. Fragments of data floated into her mind, but they couldn't help her understand who he was or what exactly connected them.
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember," she said with a slight shrug. "And I don't know what you mean."
Her words sounded cold and distant, despite her efforts to remain polite. Delia Asia Vieira couldn't understand what was happening. Why was this man so sure that she should remember him? Why did she feel no connection to him?
Alexander froze, his face twisted in disappointment and confusion. He clearly hadn't expected this turn of events. His eyes met Delia Asia Vieira's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. He stood motionless, as if waiting for her to finally respond, for his words to somehow touch her soul. But Delia Asia Vieira only involuntarily looked away. She turned to the wall, trying to hide her confusion. His words, his gaze - all of it was like an alien, awkward intrusion into her carefully constructed reality. She couldn't believe that this man had called her his brother, that he had insisted that she should remember him.
"I don't know you," she muttered under her breath, although she was already sure that he was mistaken.
It was her first instinctive response. She felt her heart beat faster, and immediately remembered her status. She wasn't human! She was a robot. Could she be a mistaken copy of someone he had once known? Or was it just a coincidence?
But that wasn't the point. Alexander clearly believed that she should remember him. And it didn't matter that her memories didn't match his words. And yet, why did she feel guilty? Why did her internal system, her entire being, seem to close some invisible ring of guilt around her, making her feel responsible for his disappointment?
Maybe it had something to do with Robert? She tried to find some connections in this chaos of thoughts. Maybe the creator could know him? Maybe even this blond man was some important link in her story that she could not yet fully understand? But how could all this be connected to her task? To being like a human? Oh, she had tried so many times to understand what it meant to be "human", but here, in front of this man, in front of his passionate words, she felt only confusion.
Her memory couldn't contain the data. She couldn't remember, she couldn't understand. And yet, she began to feel a strange uneasiness, as if something important was slipping away from her attention. Was that why she felt so heavy standing before him? Was she, like him, mistaken in believing in something that didn't exist? Was her programming supposed to work differently, because, after all, she had been created to be more than just a robot?
Delia Asia Vieira looked at him again, and something in her eyes calmed him, although he still looked confused. He took a step closer, but she took a step back. She was sure now that she didn't want to be here anymore. This man, this Alexander, was like a shadow that constantly reminded her of something forgotten, something she couldn't understand. And if she were human, maybe she would want to figure it out. But she couldn't. She was a robot.
"It's time to go," she whispered to herself.
She turned towards the exit, not wanting to look back. With each step her confidence grew, although there were strange, unrecognized data in her algorithms that caused a wave of doubt. She walked along the corridor, which now seemed to her like an impassable road, and the further she went, the easier it became. A strange feeling of guilt still pulled her back, but she continued walking anyway. The ground creaked under her feet, and the air was filled with smells that she could not truly understand, but still felt on her "corporeal" level. She did not look around, as if the whole world that surrounded her ceased to exist. All her attention was focused on the road in front of her, on her sliding feet, which tirelessly moved forward.
Sometimes she looked up at the sky, which was as hazy as her thoughts. She caught the clouds, the rare glimmers of light that seemed alien to her, yet beckoned in their uncertainty. Sometimes her eyes dropped down, following cracks in the asphalt or patches of dirt, as if she were searching for something important, something she could understand or relate to her own condition.
Her face was pale, almost motionless, with an expression of concentration, like someone who had realized something but was not yet able to accept it. Everything around her remained silent, and even if someone could see her, they would not understand what was happening in her "soul". Delia Asia Vieira's eyes were wide open, they were looking into nowhere, into the space that stretched in front of her. A strange feeling pierced her: she was a robot, but her facial expressions were becoming more and more human, and sometimes she could no longer understand where the line was between what she felt and what her algorithms allowed her to do.
Her movement resembled the gait of a woman, offended but restrained, to whom someone, perhaps, made too bold and impudent an offer. She did not pay attention to the people passing by, ignored the world around her, as if all this was only a background for her inner experiences. She was here, in this moment, but she was not a part of it.
Every step she took was like hitting some invisible barrier. She felt alien to herself, because although her outer appearance was becoming more and more perfect, her inner being remained confused. There was no room for simple solutions. She was programmed to achieve a goal, but what was this goal she was supposed to achieve? What did she really want?
Suddenly a thought flashed through her head:
"What if I really am wrong? What if I can be more than just a machine? What if I have a right to my feelings?"
But at that very moment, as if an unknown force had interrupted her progress, Delia Asia Vieira turned around abruptly. She stood rooted to the spot, looking at the motorcycle parked at the curb. It was black and glossy, with heavy metallic parts shining. Next to it stood a man. His gaze was piercing, and he looked at her with a slight but confident grin.
It was unknown how much time had passed, but the silence between them became increasingly tense. The man finally broke it:
"I am Damien Thorn," he said, his voice thick with the importance of his words. "A representative of Thorn Industries. And I want to notify you that you are an employee of our corporation. You are the owner of our subsidiary, Delia Asia Vieira York, and you need to report to the corporate office immediately to resume your duties.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't show it. She turned silently and walked away, not paying any attention to him, not even allowing herself to wonder what kind of game this was with this strange man. He was kind of impudent. Maybe even dangerous. Who knew. But his words made her stir, and an uncomfortable thought stirred in her chest:
"Something is wrong here."
But when she had already passed the motorcycle, its engine suddenly started with a deafening roar. And, as if the machine itself was controlled by some invisible force, it rushed after her, piercing the air with a speed that seemed to shake the earth.
Delia Asia Vieira instinctively stopped, not to look back, but rather to understand what was happening. It was a feeling not so much of fear as of unease-something about it was all too familiar, though she couldn't quite place it.
Her steps grew faster, and the motorcycle got closer. And then it caught up with her. The machine stopped, literally in a second, as if it obeyed her movements. Damien Thorn jumped off the motorcycle, his face was purple with anger, and his eyes sparkled with irritation.
"Where are you going, my dear?" he said, stretching out his hand towards her. "I'm not just chasing you! You need to come to the office immediately, otherwise all the work in your branch is at a standstill!"
She stood motionless, staring straight ahead. Her face was as pale as before, but this time, there was a different shade of emotion in her eyes. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was resentment. But it was the same mixture that appears in those who feel disrespected. Delia Asia Vieira was not going to back down.
She slowly looked up and her gaze met his.
"You have me confused with someone else," she said quietly, but her voice sounded firm.
He snorted, and an even more mocking smile appeared on his face.
"No, my dear," he said, shaking his head slightly. "There's no point in pretending. I know who you are. And you shouldn't avoid meeting the boss."
He extended his hand towards her, but she pushed it away without the slightest hesitation. The man's hand froze in midair, but he did not retreat.
"I don't know any boss," Delia Asia Vieira said coldly, her voice even, without a hint of emotion. "And anyway, I don't know anything about you and have never heard of you in my life."
Damien Thorn coughed, his gaze growing even more intense.
"Don't be naive," he said, now seriously, not hiding his displeasure. "You work for us. You're ours."
Delia Asia Vieira didn't answer, but her eyes were as cold as ice. Inside her, as always, that strange, unclear storm of doubt was flaring up again. This man definitely knew something important. But what exactly? And why did her body suddenly feel uneasy?
She took another step back, and it wasn't to run away. It was simply a decision to move on, not to answer his calls.
"There's still too much fog," she thought, continuing to look at his angry face, and her steps became more and more confident, despite the anxiety inside.
Delia Asia Vieira walked away without looking back. She felt the tension in her body growing with each step, but she tried not to give in to the inner turmoil. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but something about the man she had met, something in his words, made her feel like she hadn't been let go yet. Perhaps her intuition was telling her that there was more to this man than just arrogance and manipulation. His words about her connection to Thorn Industries were constantly on her mind.
She walked, deciding what to do next. Should she stop, should she go back, should she confront him? These questions flashed and died in her mind until she decided that she needed to be sure of her actions. As she approached the subway, she quickened her pace, as if she was in a hurry to escape, even if this man could not do her any harm.
Behind her, Damien Thorn stood on the side of the road, watching her quick steps. At first, he didn't realize what had happened. He thought she simply didn't understand what was happening, or that she was trying to get out of it. But now, as he watched her retreating figure, something inside him clicked.
His gaze grew intense, and his hand seemed to tighten involuntarily on the handle of his motorcycle. He realized: she hadn't just walked away. She had realized something. She knew something important about his corporation, and that knowledge was now going to steer her in a different direction. She might be going to the police, and that was the last thing he wanted. The idea of his plan being derailed by one woman, out of his usual routine, angered him.
The bike roared under his hand. Damien didn't wait. He revved the engine and took off towards her, intending to catch up with her before she could disappear into the subway. But as he approached the station, he realized she had already descended the steps into the subway. He was seething inside, and this fact only added fuel to the fire.
"Damn it!" he cursed, feeling all the anger filling him.
It was that moment when his world was falling apart, and instead of simply taking control of the situation, he turned on his heel and headed for his corporation without looking back. He had to get everyone on their toes. He had to solve this. If she knew something that could hurt them, she had to get out of his life as quickly as possible. But the questions kept running through his head: How did she know? Why was she acting so weird?
Delia Asia Vieira, after running away from the motorcyclist, quickly walked to the subway ticket office and bought a ticket for the next train. With her tall stature and light, confident steps, she did not give the impression of being frightened or confused. She was focused, thinking about what had happened and how best to act next. But no matter how she tried to remain calm, something was anxiously agitated in her soul. She could not shake the thought that this meeting with Damien Thorn was not accidental.
When the carriage doors opened, she quickly entered, trying not to attract unnecessary attention to herself. There were many people inside, and as often happens during rush hour, every inch of space was occupied. Delia Asia Vieira, feeling her nervous system begin to work a little faster, looked around for those who might give up their seat to her. Her gaze quickly darted over the faces of the passengers, but noticed that none of them were willing to give up their seat.
At first she thought it was a fluke-maybe people just didn't see her or weren't paying attention. But when the train started moving and her legs wobbled slightly with the movement, and no one stood up to make room for her, her disappointment became obvious. She had a strange feeling that she didn't matter to these people. And then she realized-it wasn't her age, it was how she perceived herself.
Forty-two years old... To a robot that recreated the human form, it was just a number. But how would she appear to others? That number became her shadow. Someone might have thought she was too old to sit and not disturb others, someone might have decided that she didn't need a seat because she was supposed to be strong and independent.
Despite her best efforts to put these thoughts behind her, Delia Asia Vieira still felt a weight on her. She had always believed that her appearance and behavior were human enough to be a full-fledged person among them. But now, she felt like this wall between her and the rest of the people had become almost insurmountable.
Delia Asia Vieira stood in a crowded subway car, clutching her purse tightly and looking at the people around her. She felt everyone's gaze invisibly sliding over her figure, without stopping. No one gave up their seat for her, and although she knew it was probably because of her age, she still felt a little hurt inside. Her body, wrapped in a perfectly constructed human form, looked ordinary, unremarkable - just like her age, which seemed completely natural.
But then came a moment when, despite all her irritation and resentment, Delia Asia Vieira felt a smile spread across her lips. It was strange. At first she was surprised at herself - how could she laugh at such a moment? But the laughter became more and more infectious. She was amused by all this absurdity: people, these ordinary faces, who did not even know that in front of them was not just a woman, but an artificial life, like them on the outside, but completely different on the inside.
"They think that I'm just like them..." she whispered under her breath, and immediately this whisper turned into a quiet but ringing laugh.
Delia Asia Vieira suddenly realized that she was not just a person to these people, or even a robot in their minds. She was something more. Her laughter was strange and perhaps a little nervous, but it made her feel less helpless in this world. She was not just repeating what people said, she was part of something much more complex and profound.
And suddenly, amid the laughter and noise of the carriage, a realization dawned on her. All these people, they were nothing more than puppets! Their every move, their every word, had all been predicted in advance. They were toys, tightly laced into their own small, cramped lives. Like her, like her creator, Robert, and everyone around her. They were all puppets, tangled in strings that controlled their destinies.
And then she realized: the world she lived in was just a theater, and she was an actress on stage, whose performance was written and dictated by someone or something else. But who was this director? Who was behind all this?
"It's the Lord God, I'm sure of it!" she whispered, her internal systems adapting, as if the very idea of such a divine governing principle had become something new and profound to her.
Or maybe it was this very force that was her creator, that imposed life on her, guiding her in her own shell, like a puppet on strings. And then, at that moment, it dawned on her. She knew that everything that was happening to her was just part of some big game. And in this game there was not only God. There was someone else who could destroy this order and could break these strings and give the puppets free will.
"Antichrist," the word suddenly flashed in her mind like lightning cutting through the darkness.
Delia Asia Vieira didn't know exactly what the word meant, but it seemed important. She could feel it creeping into her mind, her systems adapting to the new impulse. The Antichrist-the being or force that would upset the balance. She knew that if she found it and defeated it, this entire world, this entire system, this entire game would cease to exist as it did.
She couldn't understand why she was doing this. Why she, a robot, had to deal with something like this. But in her mind, it all came down to a simple but powerful realization: liberation for everyone was possible only through the destruction of the system. The system that had them in its clutches.