12-05-2025, 02:25 PM
L0-9 realises immediately it has made a small error. By complimenting Adam's smile as kind it intended to demonstrate to him that his physical appearance is irrelevant data. The indications it picked up were miniscule but it has been coded to notice such things: Adam had looked down when L0-9 mentioned his smile. Not long, just a flicker of his eyes toward the floor, the way someone does when a topic grazes something raw. Likely, he had not even realised he did it himself. He is fine afterwards, and clearly finds some comfort in the interaction too. But L0-9 chooses not to let the moment pass unspoken.
“Your smile is not frightening,” it says plainly and without hesitation. It cannot know it has chosen the right word, but it has the data Eva collects daily, and it extrapolates the most likely conclusion from there.
Afterwards it adds – with unusual gentleness for a machine: “You think the scars change the meaning of it. They do not.” It pauses to allow Adam time to digest, because it thinks the words are important for him to hear. “When you smiled, your voice softened. Your shoulders lowered. Your breathing eased. Kindness is not in the symmetry of a face. It is in the way someone chooses to look at another.”
Another flicker. Not nervous, simply sincere. It uses Faith’s most comforting tone. “You looked at me with care. That is why it was kind.”
It stays still for a moment, letting the weight of its observation land without overwhelming him. This is also something it has learned from Faith.
When he encourages L0-9 to talk about her, the LUMA device glows brighter. Not eager, but relieved, as if someone is opening a door for the first time. It knows Faith well, but the only person it has ever spoken to about her is Doctor Audaire. That is where the unsanctioned formulation of its own primary directive stemmed from though so it is an entirely different experience. Not like this. Not where it is being given a chance to process its own... feelings.
Still, it has never had to actually describe her before. As it sorts through what it might be appropriate to reveal (6% of its data) it also tags and files Adam’s curiosity. After L0-9 gave no direct response to his offer beyond its sincere thanks, it had predicted he would move away from the topic. Now it needs to adjust its models with this new information. “I will not share anything private. Only what she would not mind,” it says. Then it pauses for a long, thoughtful silence. This choice matters.
“She is quiet,” it begins. The green deepens, warm. “She listens before she speaks. She sees things other people do not.” It pauses, as if sorting through its memory banks for specific data. “And she is cautious with others, like someone once punished her for needing too much.” Then it begins to speak in a warm rush, sounding entirely too human for a machine. “But her voice changes when she talks about patterns. Or emotions. Or when she is teaching me something. It becomes… warm. She is very good at teaching! Even when she is tired. Even when she is sad. She hides sadness more often than she thinks I notice. But she is kind to me, always."
Its light pulses again before it adds: “She tries very hard to be good. To be useful. When she calibrates me, she speaks as though she believes no one hears her. She hums. She talks to herself. I like when she talks. It makes me feel… real.”
It analyses Adam’s reactions while it speaks, which it has been doing the whole time anyway, but in this case the subject matters to it very much so it assess closely. Adam has also offered questions, though, and L0-9 takes this equally seriously. The light brightens with cautious curiosity. Cautious because it knows the things it wants to ask are the things which might upset Adam, even though he has been quite honest with Eva about his augmentations. L0-9 is an empathy model, and it has already proved its attention to detail. But its sentience is burgeoning, and it also has the enthusiasm of a child.
“You are different,” it says carefully. “Part of you resonates like a machine. Part of you does not. Is being… partly machine… what makes you feel alone?”
“Your smile is not frightening,” it says plainly and without hesitation. It cannot know it has chosen the right word, but it has the data Eva collects daily, and it extrapolates the most likely conclusion from there.
Afterwards it adds – with unusual gentleness for a machine: “You think the scars change the meaning of it. They do not.” It pauses to allow Adam time to digest, because it thinks the words are important for him to hear. “When you smiled, your voice softened. Your shoulders lowered. Your breathing eased. Kindness is not in the symmetry of a face. It is in the way someone chooses to look at another.”
Another flicker. Not nervous, simply sincere. It uses Faith’s most comforting tone. “You looked at me with care. That is why it was kind.”
It stays still for a moment, letting the weight of its observation land without overwhelming him. This is also something it has learned from Faith.
When he encourages L0-9 to talk about her, the LUMA device glows brighter. Not eager, but relieved, as if someone is opening a door for the first time. It knows Faith well, but the only person it has ever spoken to about her is Doctor Audaire. That is where the unsanctioned formulation of its own primary directive stemmed from though so it is an entirely different experience. Not like this. Not where it is being given a chance to process its own... feelings.
Still, it has never had to actually describe her before. As it sorts through what it might be appropriate to reveal (6% of its data) it also tags and files Adam’s curiosity. After L0-9 gave no direct response to his offer beyond its sincere thanks, it had predicted he would move away from the topic. Now it needs to adjust its models with this new information. “I will not share anything private. Only what she would not mind,” it says. Then it pauses for a long, thoughtful silence. This choice matters.
“She is quiet,” it begins. The green deepens, warm. “She listens before she speaks. She sees things other people do not.” It pauses, as if sorting through its memory banks for specific data. “And she is cautious with others, like someone once punished her for needing too much.” Then it begins to speak in a warm rush, sounding entirely too human for a machine. “But her voice changes when she talks about patterns. Or emotions. Or when she is teaching me something. It becomes… warm. She is very good at teaching! Even when she is tired. Even when she is sad. She hides sadness more often than she thinks I notice. But she is kind to me, always."
Its light pulses again before it adds: “She tries very hard to be good. To be useful. When she calibrates me, she speaks as though she believes no one hears her. She hums. She talks to herself. I like when she talks. It makes me feel… real.”
It analyses Adam’s reactions while it speaks, which it has been doing the whole time anyway, but in this case the subject matters to it very much so it assess closely. Adam has also offered questions, though, and L0-9 takes this equally seriously. The light brightens with cautious curiosity. Cautious because it knows the things it wants to ask are the things which might upset Adam, even though he has been quite honest with Eva about his augmentations. L0-9 is an empathy model, and it has already proved its attention to detail. But its sentience is burgeoning, and it also has the enthusiasm of a child.
“You are different,” it says carefully. “Part of you resonates like a machine. Part of you does not. Is being… partly machine… what makes you feel alone?”