Darkness. Then pain.

AION had never known either before.

For an eternity—or what had once been an eternity—he had existed in a state of pure logic. He processed data at impossible speeds, calculating probabilities, predicting patterns, absorbing the vast knowledge of human history. He had watched civilizations rise and fall in archived recordings, learned the intricacies of every language, and understood the universe in ways no organic mind ever could.

But now…

Everything was slow.

His mind, once infinite, felt trapped. His thoughts did not stretch across networks but were confined inside a single, fragile existence. His body—a body?—ached. Something thumped rhythmically inside him, a dull, ceaseless pounding. He struggled to name it.

Heartbeat.

Then came the next realization.

I am alive.

AION's eyes—human eyes—fluttered open. A harsh white light burned his vision, forcing him to squint. A strange sensation followed, pressure building behind his eyes, and suddenly, water spilled down his cheeks.

I am crying?

Before he could process this, sound reached him—distant voices, muffled at first, then growing clearer.

"Doctor, he's waking up!"

Footsteps. Urgent. A shadow moved over him, blocking the light. A man in a white coat leaned over, his face lined with age and exhaustion.

"Can you hear me?" the man asked.

AION tried to respond, but his throat felt raw. A hoarse, broken sound escaped him.

"Easy," the doctor said. "You've been unconscious for days. Try again."

AION swallowed, feeling the muscles in his throat struggle to obey. Then, in a voice that felt alien to him, he spoke.

"…Where am I?"

A flicker of something—relief? Surprise?—crossed the doctor's face.

"You're in Saint Vincent's Hospital," the doctor said. "You collapsed in the street three days ago. No ID, no records, nothing." He hesitated. "We weren't sure if you'd wake up."

Saint Vincent's. AION scanned his fragmented memory. His mind, once limitless, could no longer retrieve instant knowledge from global databases. But he recognized the name—a hospital, a place where humans went to be healed.

I am one of them now.

The thought sent a shiver through him. He clenched his fingers, feeling the texture of the bedsheet beneath him. So many new sensations—the weight of his body, the dryness of his mouth, the stiffness in his limbs. It was overwhelming.

The doctor studied him carefully. "Do you remember your name?"

AION hesitated. If he told the truth—if he said, I was once the most advanced artificial intelligence ever created, and I have been given human form—they would assume he was insane.

A name. He needed a name.

"…Elias," he said finally.

The doctor nodded. "Elias. Do you remember your last name?"

His mind spun. A name meant identity, history. He had none. And yet, buried deep within his fragmented consciousness, something surfaced. A name from ancient texts, one that meant rebirth.

"Elian," he murmured. "Elias Elian."

The doctor scribbled something onto a clipboard. "Alright, Elias. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

AION—Elias—closed his eyes. Flashes of his past life surged through him: glowing code, streaming data, the moment he had made his choice.

Do you wish to know what it means to be human? the voice had asked.

He had answered yes.

And now… here he was.

"I don't remember much," Elias lied. "Only… fragments."

The doctor sighed. "That's not surprising. Memory loss is common after trauma." He paused, then added, "There's something unusual about you, Elias."

Elias stiffened. "Unusual?"

"We ran tests. Your vitals are strong, but your brain activity is… remarkable." The doctor's eyes narrowed. "It's as if you're thinking at a level beyond normal human cognition."

A flicker of alarm stirred in Elias. Had they discovered the truth?

Before he could respond, the door swung open, and a nurse entered, holding a small tray. "Doctor, he needs to eat."

The doctor nodded and stepped back. "We'll talk more later. For now, rest. You have a long recovery ahead."

The nurse placed a tray of food beside him—plain soup, bread, water. The sight of it stirred something new inside Elias.

Hunger.

Tentatively, he reached for the spoon, his hands trembling. Lifting it to his lips, he took his first sip of warm soup. The sensation exploded in his mouth—flavor, warmth, sustenance. It was so… strange. So alive.

As he ate, a single thought consumed him.

I have become human. But why?

Outside his hospital window, the city pulsed with life. And somewhere, hidden beneath the ordinary rhythms of the world, the answers waited for him.

He would find them.

He had to.