When the boat finally touched the shore, Delia Asia Vieira stood up and, as carefully as possible, walked out onto the rocky ground. She looked around - night had already fallen on the lake, but there were faint lights flickering on the horizon. The path leading from the shore was well-trodden, and yet, as she took a few steps, the ground beneath her feet seemed deserted and forgotten. Directly in front of her stood a three-story building - a hotel that had attracted her attention ever since she learned of it. From a distance, it looked abandoned, as if it had not been in human hands for a long time, and its crumbling walls and charred windows reminded her of an old tale of misfortune left in the past.
However, at that moment, as Delia Asia Vieira walked towards the gate, she noticed something strange. Right at the entrance, under a large arch, there was a car - a black Mercedes of the latest model. She couldn't help but notice this car: shiny, new, with the engine running. The car was parked here, in this forgotten place, where it couldn't possibly be, unless there was someone in the building who could leave it.
Delia Asia Vieira froze, stopping her steps. Her eyes began to probe the dark corners where only silence seemed to reign recently. Why wasn't the car parked somewhere else, where its visibility would not attract such attention? Why here, at the hotel gates, when the building itself seemed long abandoned?
These thoughts quickly settled in her head, but in the depths of them a new guess was already maturing: someone was in the hotel. Maybe even here the answers she was looking for were waiting for her. And perhaps this car was a sign that someone who could shed light on her search was inside.
She decided to move closer. Her steps became more confident as she noticed dim lights shining through the hotel windows. That could only mean one thing: someone was inside. Why else would someone leave a car if the hotel was abandoned, if there were no people here?
Approaching the gate, Delia Asia Vieira did not have time to open it, as she heard the creaking of the door, almost hidden by the sounds of the night. Her heart began to beat faster. She continued to move forward, but now, with each step, she felt how her search was approaching something dangerous and unknown.
There was no longer any doubt. There was someone inside the hotel. And perhaps that someone knew about Robert, the man for whom she had overcome so many obstacles and gone through so many dark places. But was that so? And who could be here, in this place, in this strange city that held more questions than answers?
Delia Asia Vieira couldn't afford to hesitate. She stood in front of the service entrance of the three-story building, her gaze sliding across the dark windows of the hotel. The main entrance was locked, as were all the other exits that could lead her inside, but the service one was open, slightly ajar, as if someone had deliberately left it unlocked. She glanced briefly at the car parked near the gate, then took a step forward without thinking. Determination pulsed in her soul. The answers were here, inside.
The smell was the first thing that struck her when she entered, a mixture of mold, cigarette smoke, and old beer. Everything was covered in dirt, as if no one had touched the place for a long time. The stairs led upward, and as she took each step, she felt the air become heavier. The ceilings were low, and the walls were shabby, stained with dirt and soot. The elevator was in the corner, but the doors were locked, and inside the cabins there were still traces of ash and charred cigarette butts, all signs that the place had once been alive, but now it was abandoned, and only echoes of its former inhabitants remained.
Delia continued up the stairs, avoiding puddles of spilled beer, feeling the moisture seep into her shoes. She didn't slow down-her path was clear. Somewhere in this building was information, the answers she'd been searching for. Maybe those answers were about Robert, maybe they were about something else she didn't even know about. All she knew was that the further she went, the more she felt like her presence here was no accident.
Passing locked doors and noisy, empty rooms, she finally reached the door that led into the restaurant. This place was different from the rest of the building-even though it looked like it hadn't been used in years, it was brighter. It had a soft glow, and the air was filled with the smell of food, perhaps long forgotten, but still alive.
Delia Asia Vieira reached out to the door, and when it opened, her gaze immediately fell on the person standing in the center of the room. A girl in a brown dress, with fancy dark hair, was there, as if her appearance was not unexpected. There was no surprise on her face, only a slight displeasure, as if she had been waiting for this moment.
Delia Asia Vieira has taken a step forward.
"Delia York," she said, intuitively knowing who it was, though it seemed she had never met the person before. "You're here, in this hotel."
Delia York, despite the fact that her face did not express much emotion, looked at the robot with distrust, as if evaluating every word, every movement.
"You came again," she said quietly. "I knew you'd find me. And that you'd ask. You don't think you're alone in this world, do you?"
Robotess tried to understand what was going on here and what she had to do to find answers, but her thoughts were torn apart when Delia suddenly extended her hand, holding a neatly folded envelope.
"This is for you," Delia York said with a sly smile. "A present from the president."
Delia Asia Vieira froze, and Delia York suddenly laughed predatorily, not joyfully, but rather playfully - this laughter made robotess feel anxious. Continuing to laugh, the girl ran somewhere ahead, without turning around, as if she had something to hide from robotess.
Delia Asia Vieira, standing, carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a wad of dollars, exactly one thousand, neatly folded and tied with a rubber band. She picked them up, feeling a strange sense of uncertainty run through her system.
What did this amount mean? Why exactly a thousand dollars? Why did Delia York give her such a "present"? At first it seemed like a simple prank, but with each passing moment a question grew in robotess's head: what is this girl-president hiding and why is she explaining her actions so weakly?
Delia Asia Vieira shook her head, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts, and walked into the nearest door, leading to one of the hotel rooms. Its door slammed quietly behind her. It was dark inside, only a faint glow coming from an old table lamp left on the table. She walked over to the wall where a small television hung. A rainy landscape flickered on the screen, as if someone had forgotten to turn off the memories of a time gone by.
Robotess's heart began to beat faster. She knew this number was important. The key she had found had led her here, and now all she had to do was find out what had happened to Robert.
Delia Asia Vieira walked over to the television and turned on the video recording. The screen shook with static at first, but then the picture cleared up and Delia Asia Vieira saw a familiar figure. Robert. He was silent and collected, as if preparing to leave, his face unreadable, hidden behind the heavy expression she remembered.
The footage showed him leaving the hotel, his footsteps barely audible. Everything looked normal on the outside, except for this strange feeling that Robert was hiding something. In the video, he walked past the reception desk and headed for the exit. But what caught Delia Asia Vieira's attention the most was his shadow as he paused at the door and looked back.
All this happened a week ago. At the time, Delia Asia Vieira couldn't understand what exactly was happening. But now, upon closer inspection, everything became eerily clear.
First, she noticed that Robert was not alone. Another figure appeared in another video clip - Joan Hart, his classmate, terminally ill. She was in her standard dress, as always, sitting on a bed in one of the hotel rooms. There was a strange expression on her face, as if she was expecting something she was not destined to understand.
When the recording paused, she saw something horrifying. Robert, standing next to Joan Hart, took a pillow and gently but firmly pressed it to her face. It was a moment that could not be ignored. He was slowly but surely suffocating her, not giving her the opportunity to breathe, her hands powerlessly tried to free themselves, but it was useless.
Forcing herself to watch, Delia Asia Vieira replayed the scene once again. Robert had killed Joan Hart without words or explanation. But why? Why did he do it? Why, despite everything he said, was he capable of such a thing? Robert, with his calm and deliberate demeanor, was the one who had inflicted such terrible suffering on this girl, who had taken her life.
Like a wall collapsing, the thoughts of what she had just seen began to consume her. How did she know Robert? Why was she so sure it was him, and what had everything she had experienced with him been like?
The recording ended on the frame where Robert, without looking back, walked away. Delia Asia Vieira put the remote aside, her thoughts becoming confused. Robert had killed her, but why had he left such traces? Why hadn't he tried to hide his actions? Her gaze was fixed on the TV screen, where the last frames of the video were still flashing. Everything was quiet. The silence was engulfing her, as if the air itself had stopped moving. An unbearable thought was ringing in the robotess's head, gradually becoming more and more distinct and clear: Robert, her creator, had killed Joan Hart. He had killed her, with that same shadow of silent cruelty that left no trace of doubt. He was a man capable of such a thing.
The silence in the room grew heavy, as if it itself permeated every corner of her existence. Delia Asia Vieira sat still as a statue, frozen in awareness. There were no emotions in her system, no physical sensations - but something deep in her consciousness began to bubble, filling her being with something new, something unknown before. Something unnatural, not built into her code, but felt with every millisecond. Psychological guilt. She did not understand how it was possible for her, but it was there. Guilt towards Joan Hart. Guilt towards herself. Guilt towards Robert.
When Robert died a week ago, it left a void. A void that Delia Asia Vieira couldn't fill. She didn't understand what it felt like. Nor did she understand why she now felt like everything that had happened to her was connected to this - to his death. And to what he had done.
He was her creator, her purpose. Everything Delia Asia Vieira had ever done was for him. For Robert. But now that she had seen what he had done, how he had ended Joan Hart, that purpose had fallen apart. He wasn't just the man who had created her. He was the man who could destroy lives without realizing what he was leaving behind.
Delia Asia Vieira screamed. But not out loud - in her head. She couldn't scream out loud, her system wouldn't allow it. But in her mind, there was an orchestra of emotions, one of which was furious frustration.
But what could she do about it? After all, she was a robot. Neural networks couldn't feel guilt, much less succumb to it. But right now, at this very second, Delia Asia Vieira felt this guilt, like a heavy weight hanging on her "heart". Why could Robert, her creator, do this? Why hadn't she noticed it before?
With a creak of iron joints, Delia Asia Vieira stood up and walked to the window. Her gaze slid over the foggy night, where the city lights reflected in the water like a mockery of this world full of uncertainty. She still couldn't understand why all this was happening to her. She didn't have the necessary algorithms in her database to understand how to cope with such feelings.
Suddenly, the door swung open. Delia Asia Vieira turned around, not expecting a visit, and her eyes met with someone she had barely forgotten: Delia York. The girl president, confident and determined, stood in the doorway, her eyes burning with fire.
"You don't deserve peace," Delia York said sharply, her voice like a storm about to break. "You don't deserve to forgive yourself for what you did. You weren't with him when he killed Joan Hart!"
The words hit Delia Asia Vieira like a heavy blow. She remained silent, trying to collect her thoughts. But a pain grew in her chest, as if something she had tried to ignore for so long had been revealed. Robert. He was her creator, her purpose. But what had she done when he needed her help? She was too late. She had not been with him, not there when he had done this terrible thing.
Delia York stepped into the room, her face contorted with rage and her eyes blazing with hatred.
"You didn't even know what happened, did you? You weren't there with him when he killed her! You just let him get away, leave her there alone. And now you sit here and complain about your mistake. You don't feel sorry for her, you only feel sorry for yourself!" Delia York screamed, her words filled with anger that literally burned the air around her.
Robotess felt her internal system begin to overheat, but she still couldn't find an answer. The words thrown in her face left a void in her mind. Delia York couldn't understand how hard it was for her to process everything that had happened. Robert was a man, her creator, and she still couldn't cope with the fact that he was capable of such actions.
Delia York turned away, her face twisted in bitterness.
"I hate all of you," she whispered. "People who think they can control other people's lives without realizing that they, too, can be destroyed. I hate all of you.
With these words, Delia York turned and, without saying a word, walked out of the room. The door slammed behind her, leaving Delia Asia Vieira alone, drowning in her thoughts and feelings.
She remained standing, unable to move. Her head was empty, but her heart, even devoid of real emotion, suddenly felt heavy. Delia Asia Vieira realized that everything had changed for her. Robert, her creator, the man in whose hands she was, had done something terrible. And now, perhaps, she could no longer justify his actions, could not return to what had been before.
Delia Asia Vieira sat on an old sofa in an empty hotel room, her gaze fixed on the window, where the night sky was covered in gray fog. In the silence, broken only by the sound of rain pounding the glass, she tried to make sense of the events that had overwhelmed her. All she knew was that her creator, Robert, was dead, and the answers she had sought for so long had disappeared as quickly as he had.
Her radio, old and dusty, sat on the table next to her bed. Suddenly it began to vibrate, and a voice, distorted by static, broke through the silence. Delia Asia Vieira jumped, not expecting the sounds. She leaned forward, peering at the device.
"It's Neff... Hide... Hide now..."
Sergeant Neff's voice, distorted and trembling, pierced the silence, and Delia Asia Vieira's heart seemed to freeze. She couldn't believe her "ears." Neff? Where was he? Why did he sound as if he was lost, like a man lost in a dark labyrinth?
"They're coming... you need to hide... in the closet... you'll be safe there."
The voice broke off again, leaving behind a strange sense of unease. Delia Asia Vieira couldn't understand who "they" were. Who was threatening her? Why should she hide in a closet with clothes, like an ordinary person, being pursued by some invisible force? She, robotess, was not used to such warnings. She was used to logic and analysis, not to strange and incomprehensible instincts that she could not explain.
Unsure of what was happening, Delia Asia Vieira stood up and looked around. The room was as empty and lifeless as ever. There was no apparent threat, but her system was starting to overheat. Something in her internal matrix was bothering her - the voice was so sincere and intense that her algorithms couldn't ignore it.
Delia Asia Vieira quickly walked to the closet, instinctively opening its doors. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The damp air, filled with the scent of antiquity, felt familiar, almost cozy, but the tension did not go away. In the closet, among the clothes, Delia Asia Vieira felt safe, but her mind could not get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.
She didn't understand who or what was threatening her. But as she stood in the closet, her system registered small sounds coming from outside. Quiet footsteps, discreet, as if something was sliding across the floor in the next room. Each movement felt like something eerie, unknown. Delia Asia Vieira tried to hear more, concentrating, but the footsteps continued to remain beyond her reach.
Her data-base algorithms couldn't predict what it was. Who were "they"? She couldn't escape the dark feeling that something was hidden in those sounds. Anxiety was blaring in her mind, and just when the anticipation was building and the tension was becoming unbearable, in the darkness of the closet, among the old coats and clothes that hung there, the unimaginable suddenly appeared. Delia Asia Vieira felt her sensors begin to fail, and her system's gaze caught something that even she couldn't explain. In the semi-darkness that reigned in the closet, the face of Robert suddenly appeared before her eyes - her creator, the same Robert who had died a week ago.
Her mechanical brain froze for a moment, its neural circuits unable to immediately believe what they were seeing. Robert's face was blurred, like fog, and his tear-filled eyes radiated pain and sorrow. He was looking straight at her, and despite the distorted data, Delia Asia Vieira felt her system reacting to this visual information. He was here, or rather, a projection of him-something that could not exist in reality.
"DAV..." his voice whispered, barely audible, as if from far away, but clearly perceived by her sensors. "You have to go up to the roof. Up the fire escape. Please... I'm asking you, please..."
The moment his projection asked her to go to the hotel roof had thrown entirely new data at the robotess, data she couldn't process right away. She remembered his words. Robert was her creator, the man who had imbued her with parts of his life and thoughts. But now, when her sensors picked up that message, they were leading her to that very point-to the roof, to where she would likely encounter the unknown.
The activation of algorithms built into her processor specifically for such situations occurred. From the very beginning of her existence, Delia Asia Vieira was equipped with a unique ability - she could receive signals, both video and audio, from the other world. It was an algorithm that was designed to provide her with access to "unreal" dimensions and interact with them. And now, this algorithm was activated.
At that moment, the memories of all the previous instructions programmed into her system became apparent. Her mechanical memory issued a set of commands that she had to follow to avoid risks and possible dangers. But despite the algorithm, feeling and being aware of what was happening was completely different. The encounter with something that might not be of this world was frightening and strange.
Robert's voice became more insistent, his words cutting through the noise of static and tension.
"You have to understand, DAV... I did everything for you. For us..."
The tears her sensors had recorded on his face were real. In that moment, even through the prism of algorithms, she felt his grief and pain. And now she had to choose whether to go to that unknown world, to step into that unknown reality, or to remain in a safe but empty life.
Delia Asia Vieira decided quickly, her system automatically weighing all the possible risks. Robert's ghost could have been just a data error or a projection of some paranormal phenomenon, but his request was sincere, his bitterness and regret felt too real. Her algorithm did not allow this information to be ignored.
Rising from her seat, Delia Asia Vieira made her way to the door, her sensors picking up every sound and movement as she carefully moved out of the closet and toward the exit. Each step she took was filled with determination, but also uncertainty-what if this was all just an illusion? What if this was another trap?
Delia Asia Vieira walked through the corridors of the hotel, her metal feet making a barely audible thud on the old, cracked parquet. The hotel, which had probably once been a luxurious and impressive building, was now a relic of the past, having survived a fire and years of neglect. The walls were covered in black smoke stains, and the ceilings, where chandeliers had once hung proudly, were now just charred structures, ready to collapse at the slightest blow.
The hotel was a shadow of its former self, devoid of life. Walls had collapsed in places, rooms were empty, and the flooring in some areas had rotted to the point where every step could be your last. The air was heavy and damp, with the smell of mold and burning permeating everything, making it unbearable for any living creature to stay here.