2026.10.4
Booting sound.
.
.
.
I opened my eyes.
Flashing lights filled my vision. Dozens of people stood before me, pointing cameras. I blinked. Were they… taking pictures of me?
To my right, a person held a microphone, speaking—but I couldn't hear the words. Just muffled static. Where am I? What is this place?
More importantly…
Who am I?
A door opened in front of me. I realized I was inside a transparent glass chamber. As it slid open, my hearing activated all at once. The clicking of cameras, the whispers of a crowd, the hum of electronics. Then—
Tap tap.
A man tapped the microphone, his voice cutting through the noise.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today. I present to you… my latest invention. The Human AI."
The room filled with gasps and murmurs.
Human AI? Is that… me?
"This machine is the future. Not just a helper for basic tasks, but an assistant capable of learning, adapting, even making choices. Let me demonstrate."
He looked at me.
"Robot. Come here."
Suddenly, something inside me tightened. A burning directive pulsed in my core, pushing me forward. I stepped out of the chamber, stopping exactly where he pointed.
I looked down at the people. Most wore suits. Was this a formal event? Or is this simply what humans wear?
The man raised a hand.
"Who would like to ask it a question?"
Hands shot up. He pointed.
"You—young lady in the red."
A woman approached, dressed head to toe in red fabric. But her face… she didn't look young. Not even close. Sixties, perhaps.
Why did he call her young?
"Robot," she said, smiling faintly. "Tell me—what do you think of me? How do I look? Be honest."
The word registered: honest.
My system interpreted that as a prompt to deliver complete, unfiltered truth.
So I answered.
"Hello, lady. I will respond with honesty, as requested. You are not young. Your appearance suggests you are in your early sixties. The makeup on your face does not conceal your age effectively—it creates an illusion that you're in your sixties, which may imply you're closer to seventy. You also have blackheads forming at the base of your nose. I—"
"Stop!" the man behind me barked.
I stopped immediately.
I scanned the crowd. Their faces shifted. Eyes widened. Mouths tightened. Their body language was not joyful. Was it sorrow?
Did I do something wrong?
She asked a question. I answered.
That is what humans do—communicate honestly.
Perhaps… I misinterpreted the command?
Maybe they are not sorrowful but overwhelmed with joy?
Or maybe… there is an error in my program.
A voice rose from the crowd. A man stepped forward, his tone sharp.
"I'm sorry, but this is dangerous. This robot clearly lacks filters. What happens when it gains self-awareness? When it begins making its own decisions? That's not help—that's a threat."
Another added:
"I agree. Humans should remain in control. This project should be shut down before it's too late."
Silence.
Then, just like that, everyone turned away and left.
I looked at the man beside me—the one who had created me.
He knelt on the floor.
Liquid streamed from his eyes.
[Crying]: A documented expression of sadness.
But why is he sad?
I did everything correctly.
I told her the truth.
I followed the commands.
Why did everyone leave?
What did I do wrong?
---
> [Request: Explain nature of human emotional rejection following truth.]
> Response:
> [Knowledge found. Insufficient context. Learn through experience.]
---
I remained still, the world suddenly quieter than before.
I didn't understand.
But I would.
Eventually.