"You were born yesterday," Shoma said quietly in a small voice.
Metai was in shock. That could not be true, she thought, afraid to think anymore. She had turned sixteen the day before. Sixteen.
Metai's mind was in chaos.
All those moments of her life... she remembered them so clearly. The day she went to her first dance lesson. Her teacher wore the warmest smile possible, guiding Metai's movements with the clap of her hands as the little girl danced to a simple tune, first going freestyle then following the kind lady. She remembered her first performance; moving her body to the rhythm of the melancholic yet powerful music in a contemporary style overwhelmed her with emotions, and she was joyous beyond words when she realised her feelings had reached her audience.
The day she met her best friend, Shoma. She was four and he was eight, and both were shoved in the kids section of that boring, boring party. She was lonely, but she didn't mind it much. She was sitting around quietly, lost in her thoughts when he came to her with that kind smile of his. Ruffled, fairly long hair, a tanned face that glowed because of his warm expression. He simply sat next to her and pulled out a coin, held it in his fists, showing where the coin was. Then he had slapped his hands down and asked her to guess where the coin was.
Metai was surprised when she got it wrong, but Shoma only laughed. "The answer lies in how you see and perceive things!" he had said excitedly, and Metai was shining with curiosity and amusement. They formed an unexplainable bond that day, but it brought Metai immense joy. She treasured it forever.
She remembered that dinner, where the food was served by her parents and herself in a homely fashion on that enormous dining table. The colours of the meals were a spectrum across the black wooden table, a cheerful sight with the sound of silverware shifting and the clinging against glasses having different water levels to produce a playful tune, the sound ringing in her distant memory. The most sincere joy Metai had felt that night as she played with her little cousin sister, singing a sweet song, holding the petit figure in her hands ever-so-delicately. She remembered not being able to suppress her urge to dance, moving discretely to the rhythm of her tune. Shoma and his family were there too, and he chuckled at the sight of Metai acting like a kid with her kid sister.
Metai felt so wholesome that night, spending time with her parents, friends and family. A night she would forever treasure.
Then she recalled the day of the car crash. How the truck suddenly hit the car - she could have never anticipated it. The mere thought of that moment made her feel sick, her feelings going numb. How cruelly the truck killed her mother in the process. Her precious, sweet mother, with eyes like a brown star and the face of a kind spirit, passed away with such a horrendous expression. Her father was sobbing uncontrollably at his wife's condition, bleeding and angry at the ignorant truck driver, but was sane enough to call for the ambulance.
And she. She who could not move anymore, not her arms or legs. A cripple for the rest of her life.
She felt such deep sorrow, and she couldn't help but remember her first moment. The time her parents first held her in their hands. She was small, crying, and yet brought so much joy. Her parents held her together as if she was the most delicate thing in the world. She remembered her mother rocking her gently, her father caressing her cheek. Singing all those sweet lullabies to her put her to sleep almost instantaneously, especially when her father sang to her. Waking up to mother's gleeful voice every morning was a joy.
How she missed them so much. How she wished her father wouldn't be so serious all of the time. So overly caring.
Suddenly, Metai was overwhelmed by uncertainty. How could she remember the moment when she was born? Her brain was not as developed then. No genetic component could cause such a super-enhanced memory, it was simply impossible.
When she thought about it, she realised she never depended much on smell, taste and touch; generally visual and auditory senses were always emphasised. She had impeccable memory of events, but never for sensations. She had unimaginable tolerance for heat and cold. She never dreamt when she slept. She practically had no imagination. She barely ever fell sick, and the times she did, it felt felt as if the feeling of sickness was forced on her.
And then it hit her. She was afraid to think it, but somehow she forced herself. She didn't even understand how she felt afraid.
"Am I.... am I an AI?"
Shoma sighed, feeling deep guilt. His expression was as kind and soft as ever. How could her life not be real?
All her memories were played on the screen before him; the pictures were sometimes warm, sometimes cold, sometimes light and always filled with emotions. The Artificial Intelligence wasn't as intricate as a human's mind, but she felt emotions. She felt affection for Shoma, she felt love for her parents and dance.
Oh my... She thought, an unsettling prospect coming to her mind. I never danced. My parents never existed. My parents never died.
"I am so, so sorry, Metai. We wanted to see the power of memories on emotions, and doing the experiment on humans is unethical. I... we didn't anticipate this."
They didn't anticipate this? This was the very purpose of their experiment! He wasn't sorry, no one felt an ounce of guilt! She was angry.
NO.
That word reflected on her screen, and now Shoma was afraid. He was her friend. He was her friend! She was a dancer! She dared not to think anymore, but the horrifying thought came to her nevertheless.
"You're going to disassemble me, aren't you?"
Before the sound could even travel to Shoma's ears, thousands of images flew threw the Metai's screen. She was in deep denial, she couldn't bear the truth. No. Shoma stared in horror as Metai deleted all information from her mind, springing forth a life imagined by her. She'd rather be the God of her world, forget about it then, and live with no free will. She couldn't bear to be disassembled. She wanted to die. She wanted an ending.
She treasured her memories.
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