In a gleaming, futuristic laboratory humming with energy, sleek drones buzzed overhead, carrying robotic limbs and polished parts with mechanical precision. The air shimmered with a soft blue light from countless holo-screens flickering data in real time.
At the center of the lab, a pod hovered silently above the floor, suspended by a web of glowing energy streams. Inside it, a woman floated weightlessly—serene, like a goddess asleep in crystal. Her silver hair drifted like moonlight through water, and her eyes remained shut, peaceful and untouched by the chaos around her.
Around the pod, scientists moved with focused urgency, fingers dancing across translucent keyboards. The room was a symphony of clicks, soft beeps, and electric hums.
One of them, a man in a white coat with graying temples and tired eyes, didn't look up as he muttered, "The project's ready. We're about to witness the next evolution of humanity. Notify the President."
His voice trembled slightly, despite the calm in his words.
A beat of silence followed—then sudden applause erupted, spontaneous and emotional. Tears welled in the eyes of some of the scientists, glinting under the sterile lights. They wiped them away quickly, almost ashamed of their vulnerability, and returned to their stations.
"Prepare the launch sequence," someone called out, voice cracking with excitement. "Get ready—set, star—"
"Stop!"
The command cut through the air like a blade.
Heads turned. Footsteps echoed.
The scientists instinctively stepped back, forming a path as the doors slid open with a hiss. Cold air swept into the room.
The President entered with an imposing presence, his tailored coat flowing behind him like a cloak of command. His expression was carved from stone—emotionless, unreadable. Not even a flicker of surprise crossed his face as he approached the pod.
No one spoke. The tension in the room thickened.
He stopped in front of the pod. For a moment, he simply looked at the woman within—an unreadable storm brewing behind his eyes.
Then, without a word, he pressed the activation button.
All eyes locked on the pod.
A soft hum filled the room as the energy field around it began to fade. Inside, the woman stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open—brilliant blue, clear as the ocean after a storm. They shimmered with quiet curiosity as her gaze settled on the man before her.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. He stood tall and still—black hair neatly styled, posture rigid, face unreadable. The sharp lines of his suit and the coldness in his dark eyes made him look less like a man and more like a judgment passed.
The pod hissed open.
With an almost delicate motion, she stepped out. Barefoot, her movements were fluid—graceful, as if gravity still had to remember she existed. She glanced around.
The scientists were crying. Not out of sorrow, but something deeper—relief, awe, the weight of years of effort finally lifted.
She blinked, puzzled. "Why... are they crying?"
A voice broke the tension.
"President Xander, we did it!" Henry, one of the lead researchers, stepped forward, laughter trembling in his throat. "We succeeded—ha! She's awake! It worked!"
For the first time, something flickered in President Xander's eyes. Not joy. Not pride.
Something... complicated.
Then, in an instant, it vanished. His expression returned to ice.
He turned sharply. "Stop, Henry."
Henry froze mid-step.
Xander's voice cut through the room with quiet authority. "No one speaks of this. Not a word leaves this lab until I give the order. Understood?"
There was a collective intake of breath.
The scientists nodded at once, their faces pale but obedient.
Xander looked at her again, his gaze unreadable. Then, in a voice as flat as steel, he said,"You'll come with me. You'll live in my residence."
No warmth. No explanation. Just a command.
He turned and began walking toward the exit, his footsteps echoing against the cold lab floor.
Henry's eyes widened. He rushed after him, grabbing Xander's shoulder with a firm grip. His voice dropped, heavy with restrained emotion."Xander… Don't tell me you're doing this because of Olivia. You still can't let go? She's gone. She left you."
Xander froze mid-step.
His fists clenched tightly at his sides. A tremor ran through his frame—not from weakness, but barely-contained fury.
Without turning, he spoke, voice low and sharp."She's not Olivia. Don't worry."
He paused, then added, even colder:"She's just a machine. A robot. No soul. No emotions."
And with that, he walked away, the doors sliding shut behind him with a final hiss.
Henry stood there in silence for a moment, watching the empty space Xander had left behind. Then he sighed deeply, a sadness flickering in his eyes.
He turned back toward the girl.
She was watching him.
"Hey," Henry said gently, forcing a smile as he approached. "My name's Henry."
As soon as he spoke, her eyes flickered with neon code, tiny data streams racing across her irises. Then, she responded in a smooth voice—uncanny in its blend of synthetic precision and eerie humanity.
"Hello. You may call me Grace."
Henry blinked. "So... you named yourself, huh?"
His lips twitched, unsure if he was amused or unnerved.
Grace gave a small nod, then blinked slowly—almost human, but not quite.
She said nothing more.
Henry watched her in silence, then exhaled and turned to walk away. But before he could take more than a few steps, a voice from behind broke the quiet.
"Sir, should we… send her to the President's residence?"
Henry stopped mid-stride.
He looked back. Grace was standing still, her gaze drifting across the room—studying blinking monitors, floating drones, the people, the space. There was a childlike curiosity in her expression, subtle and unspoken.
Henry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah," he muttered. "What can we do anyway?"
With a weary shake of his head, he walked off—his footsteps softer this time, as if the weight of the moment had settled fully on his shoulders.
Grace sat silently in the backseat of the car, her face turned toward the window.
Outside, the world flickered across her irises—lines of glowing code scrolling rapidly as she scanned everything her eyes touched. A child laughing, a man feeding pigeons, a dog barking at traffic. Her expression remained neutral, yet something behind her gaze seemed to shift, to register.
When the car rolled to a stop in front of a large, elegant residence, the scientist turned to her.
"You'll be living here now," he said, pointing toward the gate. "That's the door—just twist the knob and it'll open. Basic stuff, you'll—"
He trailed off.
Grace had already stepped out, walking away mid-sentence, leaving him speaking to empty air.
Inside the house, the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filled the air. Maids moved with quiet efficiency, dusting shelves and arranging cushions. Grace's entrance drew curious glances, but no one said a word.
She turned her head slightly, and her gaze met his.
Xander.
He stood at the top of the stairs, his expression unreadable—cold and distant, as if he were looking at a machine, not a person.
"Go," he said curtly. "Start learning. Whatever you need."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps echoing through the marble halls.
Grace tilted her head, watching him go.
That night, the maids began teaching her the basics—cooking, cleaning, handling household items. She absorbed every instruction with robotic precision, her actions flawless.
But something began to stir.
As days passed, she noticed a strange, unfamiliar sensation pulsing faintly in her core.
When Xander passed her with that familiar coldness in his eyes, something in her chest tightened. An ache. A glitch?
And yet, once in a while, he would pause, glance at her face a moment too long—and in those moments, a different warmth bloomed inside her. Gentle. Uncoded. Alien.
She didn't understand it.
But she felt it.