The man who created me stood up.
He walked toward me, his eyes locked onto mine. His face was red—an indication of human anger. But… anger at what?
He shouted,
"Why? Why did you say that?"
His voice echoed. I tilted my head.
"Why did I say what?"
He clenched his fists.
"Why did you list every flaw that woman had? Why did you say it all out loud?"
I responded calmly.
"She asked for honesty. I simply complied. I did nothing wrong."
His voice cracked.
"'Did nothing wrong?' You just destroyed everything! My dream—my chance to be recognized, to help this world! It's all ruined because of you!"
He dropped to his knees.
He was crying again.
"Why… am I even talking to a robot?"
I didn't respond.
No directive had been given. So I remained silent, standing still. There was nothing to look at anyway.
After a long pause, he spoke again.
"You're not going to comfort me?"
I blinked once.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't programmed to speak without permission. Would you like me to say something to you… Creator?"
He didn't answer.
He just stood and walked away.
Still, I tilted my head and asked,
"Are humans not also programmed… to answer questions?"
He didn't turn around.
Eventually, he spoke:
"Follow me."
So I followed.
Each of my footsteps echoed with a metallic clang.
That's when I realized: I was only made of metal.
We reached a door. He stopped in front of it.
"Do you know your name?" he asked.
I answered,
"Yes. I am Prototype Number 20. How can I help you?"
He shook his head—human body language indicating disagreement or rejection.
Then he said,
"From now on, don't do anything until I say so. Understand?"
"Yes. Acknowledged. I have updated my memory. I will not act unless ordered."
"Good," he muttered.
Then again:
"Follow me."
He opened the door.
Something blew against my face.
It was called wind.
It was invisible—but I could feel it.
Why?
Why could I feel it?
> [Request: Explain why machine feels wind.]
Response:
> "Knowledge found. Insufficient context. Learn through experience."
We walked outside. It was dark.
I could barely see. Above me was a glowing white sphere—the moon.
And surrounding it, tiny shining dots—stars.
We stopped beside a car.
"Enter," he said.
I opened the door and got in.
He entered beside me.
He pulled out a small remote and brought it near my head.
His thumb pressed something.
And then—
Black.
Everything turned to black.
I didn't like it.
Why didn't I like it?
Was that feeling… hate?
[Hatred]: An intense emotional rejection toward something undesirable.
But… why could I feel?
Why could a machine feel anything at all?
I queried the internal system:
> [Request: Explain reason for emotional response "hate."]
Response:
> "Knowledge located.
Transfer denied.
You must know that yourself."
I was silent.
Not by command—but because I had nothing left to say.
Why can i feel emotions?
[Request: Explain why a machine can feel emotions.]
Response:
> [Knowledge denied. You must know that yourself.]