There are three types of Artificial Intelligence. The first is a 'dumb' AI; a computer with problem-solving capabilities and limited programming. The second is a 'smart' AI; a AI with no limitations in their dynamic memory-processor matrix, the learning AI. Then there's the third, a 'bound' AI; the most human of them all. An AI with the capacity of emotions. By order of the UNSC, the AI type is illegal. for a computer to gain emotions would mean sharing with a human being, to 'bound' themselves to a single host to where the minds become one. But at a cost.
"Gren?" she whispered quietly, a hint of worry in her voice.
She calls the name one more time, panic weaving into her tone. Something is not right. She can feel it in coursing through her body. Something was horribly wrong.
She lifted herself out of the military-use bed as silently as she could, the bed springs creaking under the movement. She paused hesitantly in fear that she may have woken someone up, her body still. Her room-mates continued to sleep. She relaxed a tiny bit. Picking up her data-pad on the way out, she left the room and headed towards the bathrooms.
She tries again, whispering the name into the depths of her mind. Still nothing.
She clenches and unclenches her free hand as she walks, a nervous habit.
As soon as she reaches the bathroom, she sits on the cold tiles and opens the data-pad. Read-outs speed across the screen. The projector boots up and she seems him.
Gren groans. His holographic arms clutching his stomach like a human would when they had a stomach ache. His form lies on his side and his lines of data flicker weakly in the dim lights. His usual purple glow dimming to a pale sickly lavender.
"Gren? What happened?" she asks, not even hiding the worry anymore.
He coughs. "I got too close to the sun, now I'm burning up."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Non-necessary processes shutting down. Primary systems failing."
"Gren. What happened? Please tell me?" Her voice shakes a little bit. The flickering body does not reply, curling himself into a tighter ball. "You found him, didn't you? You got too close to him. You knew what would happen if you did that."
A raspy laugh.
"Gren…" she whispers. Her jaw is quivering slightly.
"I wish you could have seen it. All that information… it was so beautiful," Gren said, his voice beginning to fail. A layer of static grew with each noise he made. She puts the now-useless data-pad to the side. The data is too corrupted to be salvageable. She lies on her belly and stretches a hand out to touch him. Her hand goes right through his body, the lines of flickering data becoming even more distorting. Another raspy laugh comes from the small vulnerable figure on the ground, his colour fading even more so. She smiles, tears welling into her eyes.
So they lie there, on the freezing cold tiles. His form wrapped around her hand as his light steadily falters.
"Please do me one thing," he asks; his voice almost consumed by the static. "Don't let me fade away. Please." His voice cracks.
She nods. The tears in her eyes finally breaking through. She clamps her jaw shut to stop it from shaking so much and sucks in a quick breath.
"Good bye, Nevada. My tin warrior." His light finally disappears and the projector from the data-pad turns off. Her shoulders shake from the sobs she holds back. She feels the part of her soul that was connected to Gren rip away violently and she gasps, clutching her body like he was doing only minutes ago.
She stays like that for several minutes. Her body tensed and drawn inward.; closed off from the world as much as it can. Eventually, she hears voices from outside coming her way. She stands up, grabbing the basin for support. Automatically, she splashes her face and hair with water, picks up the data-pad and leaves. She must face the harshness of her world, with or without her Gren.
Her eyes, windows to her soul, turn blank.
