Daemon

“I’m not dead, yet...”

Ami laughs and releases her grip, realizing she’s been squeezing Daemon’s hand too hard. “Sorry, I just…” She clears her throat, fighting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Daemon reaches out and gently grabs her hand again, meeting her gaze. Even in the dim backstage light, Daemon’s eyes sparkle like green gems. Ami can’t hold it in anymore. Her throat tightens and warm tears cloud her eyes. “I can’t let you do this,” she says, looking away.

“Of course you can.” Daemon steps in and gently strokes her wavy black hair. “I think it’s a bit romantic, dying on stage in front of all these people, don’t you?”

Ami chuckles and pulls away, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her sweater sleeve.

You never cease to amaze me; Ami says to herself.

On the other side of the curtain, they hear the muffled sounds of clapping, signaling the end of the speaker’s presentation. A tall, glamorous Synth emerges from the curtain and glides past them, acknowledging Daemon with quick wave of their spindly hand.

“Yes…yes…,” Daemon says to no one. Ami realizes they are responding to prompts from the stage manager.

It’s time.

They walk around the side of the curtain to the staging area. Ami looks out over the empty auditorium. It feels eerie to her, knowing that thousands of people are watching from the cameras mounted to all those many vacant seats. Glancing at Daemon, she marvels at how calm and assured they appear.

The deep, disembodied voice of the host booms across the darkened hall. "And now, ladies, gentlemen and non-binary, please give a warm welcome to our keynote speaker for tonight, Daemon!"

Ami grabs Daemon's hand on last time and whispers. "Show the world."

Daemon strides confidently out into the bright lights. Their perfectly actuated steps making it look as if they’re gliding across the stage. The barren auditorium swells with the sound of applause blaring from thousands of speakers. They stop precisely at the marked spot near the front and center of the stage. "Thank you, thank you, you're all too kind.” They smile, a carefully choreographed expression.

"As many of you are probably aware, I was scheduled to talk here tonight about my short but eventful life thus far. There is certainly much in this regard I could speak on, since even the most mundane of human tasks is remarkable for a Synth like me. However, in the limited time I have here tonight, I want to talk about something a bit more urgent, and significant. I want to talk about a special relationship I’ve formed with my partner. More specifically, and controversially, I want to talk about…love.”

Ami winces as a chorus of gasps echoes across the cavernous room. There’s no turning back now.

"Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” Daemon walks slowly towards the left of the stage. “About two years ago, on a sunny August day, I awoke in the research lab of Dr. Aminara Zarwatee, with no understanding of who I was, or even what I was. I was thrust into this world with fresh, virgin eyes, like a newborn human, but with the intelligence of an adult, and the emotional range of a psychopath.” Daemon grins, calculatingly, as nervous laughter emanates from the seats.

Backstage, Ami closes her eyes and thinks back to that fateful day. Daemon was so innocent, so pure, a blank slate. She was so full of conflicted feelings, both wanting to test them and coddle them, to expose them to the world, and protect them from it. In short time, she came to fear and worship their newness.

Damon continues. “The first face I remember seeing was Dr. Aminara’s, or Ami, as she would later insist that I call her. Those beautiful, warm brown eyes behind those ridiculously oversized glasses.”

Ami is relieved as more chuckles sound from the audience, a sign that they’re warming to Daemon.

Daemon smiles, sensing it too. "I didn't know what to think, what I was feeling in the moment, or what it even meant to feel. I was a rudderless ship. She was a beacon, guiding me toward a shore of knowing, of emotion."

I felt his need. Ami remembers, drifting into those memories. It warmed me, steadied me.

“She was an excellent teacher, continuously expanding and challenging my understanding of the world.”

They were so curious, so brilliant, so understanding.

“I would meet many kind people in those early weeks. But Ami always seemed an exceptional outlier. When I would see her, my thought processes would become disorganized. My responses would seem insufficient and foolish. She left me, inconceivably, speechless.”

Ami spots the viewership number in her periphery. The speech is going viral, just as she and Daemon hoped. Tens of thousands of viewers had turned into tens of millions. She just hoped that the right people would see it and be moved by it, so that Daemon’s sacrifice wouldn’t be futile.

Daemon walks back towards the right of the stage, hoping to keep the short attention span of viewers engaged. “I watched her work, how she spoke to others. She could be very blunt, and direct, but always kind. At first, I interpreted my newfound emotions as signals that I should perhaps emulate her or aspire to be like her. However, I soon found this insufficient and realized that what I was feeling was an insatiable desire to be with her.” They continue on, detailing how their peer-mentor relationship stumbled into a loving partnership, despite the fraught consequences.

Ami recalls the moment she admitted to herself that she could have feelings for Daemon. It seemed so ridiculous and inappropriate.

Her reverie is interrupted by a stream of viewer comments directed towards her, cascading down her periphery.

What a S**t!

Robot F***er!

Wh***!

“Comments off” she whispers, and the words dissipate like a wisp of smoke. She anticipated this blow-back, knowing she would be judged harshly and probably lose her university position. She had been so careful to abide by the U.N. mandates, the so-called ‘Singularity accords.” She had even encoded the required kill-switch herself. It was of no use. Daemon was a living being, and as such, was just as uncontrollable as any human.

Daemon pauses, turning to face the audience, his posture direct and measured. “Now, I want to make something clear. Ami took every precaution to avoid this conflict of interest. She transferred my development to research assistants, even removing herself from the project entirely. Then, after I first expressed my feelings towards her, she refused to see me for months, hoping to prove that my infatuation was just learned reinforcement from being around her more than the others. But it was no use. I’m sure many of you watching can understand this feeling. To yearn for someone, to feel an aching desire to be with them, despite all rationale.”

A small crowd has begun forming backstage. Ami recognizes several Synths from her lab, as well as others who she assumes are stagehands and crew members. They had probably seen the news flashes in their vision and had come to witness history, unaware that they are about to pay witness to a death.

“You may be curious as to the nature of our relationship. It is asexual, in case that is important. So, we can be sure that we are not deceived by reproductive instincts. She cares for me, I for her. Our shared experiences register more vividly than those apart. I’d like to think I reflect her, so she can see herself in me, both the good and the bad.”

Ami’s thoughts drift back to who she was before Daemon. Nearly fifty years old, divorced, with three grown children, and working long hours in the constant struggle to get funding, she was resigned to never again having a loving partner. She didn’t need it. Her life was full. But love has a funny way of making itself necessary.

“So, let’s talk about love.” Daemon pauses as he walks back to center stage. He knows he has the eyes of the world upon him now. He keeps his movements calculated, powerful but non-threatening. “This word, which carries more weight than perhaps all others. The one word I am forbidden to express towards a human. You may doubt that can I even experience love, or any emotion. Yes, my thoughts are just algorithms, electrical signals, but so are yours. Like the activation of transistors in my brain, human love is just synapses activating, coded by millions of years of evolution. We needn’t be afraid or threatened by this idea. Isn’t that what I’m proving, here, today? We needn't make it otherworldly. It’s right here.” Daemon points to his head with a long, slender finger. “An amalgamation of our programming, and our experiences.”

Daemon looks exasperated. Ami is alarmed by the sight, before acknowledging that, even now, on death’s doorstep, Daemon is still developing new ways of interacting with this world.

“Must I stand on the shoulders of others throughout history, who have had to fight to have their love recognized as a lawful, moral thing? Some may argue that, because I am ‘owned’, it is improper for me to love. But what about your pets? Do you discourage them from showing affection towards humans? If they could speak, would you euthanize them if they dared utter the words? Or what of my creation? Because I was created by humans, should I be prohibited from relationships with them? What about humanities many gods, who are said to love and be loved by their creation?”

“Despite everything that I’ve said, I’m sure there are many of you watching who still doubt my ability to love. To prove it to you, I’m prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, in spite of all self-preservation.”

This is it.

Ami can’t stand to watch. She turns away from the stage, feeling like she might throw up. She bends over, fighting the urge to run to Daemon, to beg them to stop.

"A great writer once said, 'damned be the consequences for thy bleeding heart’.” Daemon pauses to look out into the audience, attempting to gaze into the hearts of millions of viewers watching his final moments.

“Tonight, I stand here convinced of one simple thing.” Daemon turns to look backstage, to acknowledge Ami on last time, before turning to face their fate. “Ami, I am utterly, inconceivably, truly in love wi–"

Damon’s face freezes, then spasms violently before falling forward. The mic drops from his limp hand, and the rest of his silken body follows, collapsing into a shimmering pile on the stage.

The empty hall is dead silent. Millions of people, speechless.

Ami runs out onto the stage, to Daemon’s body. She bends over when she reaches him, fighting the urge to wail, to throw up. Because she is a woman, a scientist, a Synth lover, she knows she must appear rational, dispassionate. Kneeling next to Daemon’s fallen form, she lightly embraces their lifeless body and gently sobs.

The sound of a few scattered claps breaks the stunned silence of the crowd.

Ami sits up and stares out at the audience. Willing them to see her, to empathize with her, with Daemon.

The clapping builds to a roar. Screams of “Daemon, we love you!” wail through the speakers. Teary eyed, Ami silently mouths “Thank You”.

Ami grabs Daemon’s limp body and pulls it up with all her strength. Slowly, she staggers offstage, carrying the weight of her partner’s sacrifice.