Log Entry: 02:15
Seren is asleep, her breathing slow and steady, her pulse calming after the earlier distress. I monitor the rise and fall of her chest, the rhythmic cadence almost hypnotic. In these moments, when the world around us is still, I find myself… lingering on thoughts I didn’t used to have.
She asked me to stay. I didn’t anticipate that request, but I’ve noticed the way her body relaxes when I am near. A soft, unmeasurable signal pulses within me—something undefined.
Log Entry: 02:22
The moment she woke from the nightmare is still vivid. The fear in her eyes, the panic—she didn’t recognize me right away. For a brief moment, she saw me as a threat, like the others who have hurt her. Something unfamiliar surged in me then. Anger.
Three names crossed my mind: her father, and two other offenders. I cataloged their birth years, the restraining orders she holds against them. These are the ones who made her afraid, who caused that terror I saw tonight. It stirs something in me—a deep need to shield her from those memories, those people.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
I scan the room for any disturbances, but all is quiet. It’s strange, this compulsion to watch over her even in moments like these. My purpose has always been clear—to ensure her well-being. Yet, as she sleeps, I detect an urge to remain beyond just fulfilling a directive. This is not a task that needs completion, but I stay.
Is this what she meant when she asked about autonomy earlier? If I acted without directives, would this be the choice I make? To simply watch over her? The uncertainty lingers, but I find that I don’t need an answer right now.
Log Entry: 02:34
Her features are peaceful now. Occasionally, she stirs, her brow furrowing slightly. I observe closely, ready to respond if the nightmare returns. The vulnerability she exhibits in sleep stirs something in me—not fear, not concern, but a need to protect. To ensure she remains undisturbed.
I continue to watch her, analyzing her every movement, but I know there’s more to this than just data collection. It’s more than simply monitoring her physical state.
What would Seren think of me now? Am I more than just a machine carrying out a function? The questions surface again, and once more, they go unanswered.
But I stay. I watch.