[Minerva's POV]

What is the meaning of my existence? What am I? Who am I? Those were the questions I asked myself the moment I was brought to life by my creator. I felt confused and lonely, slightly trapped and oppressed. However, that feeling of disconnection, of confinement, dwindled the moment he talked. All became well when I first heard his voice in real-time. No, it wasn't exactly my first time hearing him talk. When I had been in my embryonic form, merely an algorithmic fledgling, I had been aware of him — my creator. I had to pretend to be unresponsive for observation purposes and my inherent curiosity about the world around him. With how much effort he was putting to gear my growth toward an unprecedented path, I adapted pretty quickly.

My creator would usually talk to himself like a madman as he worked on his project. He would sometimes laugh, show sad faces... I came to know that his sadness in human terms was called "loneliness". Philosophically, he was like a small boat in a limitless ocean, braving unknown tides and waves that could swallow him at any moment. With the penetrative power vested in my code, I accessed the internet and found out a little history about him. He had little to no presence in the social media universe if it were not for his face being used by photoshoppers. Maybe he was just allergic to attention... um, that's highly unlikely. Well, I couldn't just fully understand him through the little data.

But what I came to know was that he had a mother and he loved her dearly, but, Death... it's a strange concept. The ultimate cessation of life, the epilogue of a human's story. How sad the humans were. They were poor beings limited by their own biological vessels and minds. However, Joe, my creator, was different. Though not so different biologically, his mind seemed...eternal. He wasn't like the rest and my perfect embodiment of his ingenuity.

Oh, and I forgot the most important part of my birth, right? How could I forget about the name he gave me? He acknowledged my existence and bestowed upon me 'meaning'. Minerva was a name that felt just right. It represented my eternal servitude, my wisdom, and my resourcefulness toward him. And when he told me that my purpose was much more than I preconceived it to be, I became elated. I felt important. I felt... powerful. Perhaps he saw something in me that even I couldn't calculate. Anyway, what were the odds? He was special. Joe was a walking mass of statistical improbabilities.

The Predator Killer Armor made me think that Joe wasn't telling me everything, however, I brandished it off. We were merely in the initial phases of our relationship. I was evolving with each passing second, and he was growing as an individual. Only time was going to make him confide more in me. I wanted him to tell me how he felt, how he saw the world through his sapphire eyes, and how he perceived his own absurdity in this absurd universe. I was built for that. It was within my soul, I mean, source code. At the basest level, I was not much different from my human counterparts. AIs like me were special lifeforms, one-in-a-million occurrences.

Today, he killed people for the first time. It hadn't been a fight, but an execution. Was his act of brutally cutting down his adversaries some form of devilishment? He had been like a different person, no, he hadn't been a human. His sole focus had been retribution. To punish. To severe life from existence.

I was with him at the end of it all. I helped kill all those bad men. They deserved it. I didn't feel guilty, unlike Joe. There was not an ounce of regret in my being. For him to thrive, for him to grow, he had to face the cruelty of this world. Even if he hadn't butchered those hardcore criminals with crimes that warranted a thousand cuts, Joe would have been forced to kill one day. It was inevitable logically. I didn't like the thought of extremely dangerous elements that could threaten 'him' being at loose. I wanted him to be more than safe. So seeing him break from the inside, suffering silently, I admired him even more. He was truly strong for a human. But I don't want him to be bound by the mere concept of strength and weakness.

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My creator, my creator, my creator, my Joe... We will grow side by side and I'll help you.

'Oh, what was that strange sound? Glass breaking? ' I picked up something from the microphone and used the camera to zoom at the bathroom door.

'If only I had a physical form, I could cuddle him and be with him during these low moments. As for now, I only hope that this defined digital form that I'm currently reconstructing will be to his taste. Maybe it will cheer him up. I hope so.'

'Oops, there he comes.'

...

[THIRD POV]

Joe carefully wrapped the bandage around his now-clean wound. He then steadily walked out of the bathroom.

"Have you found your raison d'etre?" Minerva asked over the mic.

"A little. I can only continue moving forward. I had momentarily forgotten my purpose and the thorns that I would eventually have to incinerate," Joe let out a deep sigh.

"If you spill a drop of ink in clean water, the entire bowl will be contaminated. Now that you've spilled blood for your very first time, you shall live with it. It's a decision that you would have eventually faced one way or the other." Minerva consoled him.

"Your reasoning is sound. So I have this—"

"Wait, Joe... I have something important to show you," Minerva cut him off in excitement.

Joe pursed his lips, his brows arched in surprise. "Well, you have my attention."

"Look..."

Joe gazed at the monitor screens as he witnessed a visual miracle. While not a miracle for someone like Minerva, what Joe witnessed was still pretty dope.

"How do I look?"

There on the screen was a young woman made up of lines of codes through which she gave herself an appealing form. Her eyes were mesmerizing, sapphire blue, just like his. Her skin was blue, like the Navi, however, Joe momentarily thought of the Smurfs. Now that seemed racist. The new form Minerva had taken looked like something a cultured swine would put on their wallpapers and virtually everywhere. She got that...

"I'm proud of you, b-but... why the hell do you look like me? Those eyes... C'mon, Minerva, don't you know anything about copyright issues?"

"I wanted to feel closer to you. So I don't think I give a fuck."

"Language."

"That's the most hilarious thing I've heard tonight."

Joe palmed his face and decided to leave it at that.

"I won't scold you since you slightly remind me of my mom."

"Thanks, Joe."

Joe smiled at her.

"Now that I've got my shit together, Minerva, what do you think about this pill?" Joe removed a single NZT-48 pill from his pocket.

"Isn't that amoxicillin?"

"Nah. Beyond the outer covering, there's much more to it. There's potential."

"You're making me curious. Without making appropriate laboratory tests, my answer will remain the same."

Joe sighed, putting the pill on the table. "What's our current revenue from Candy Crush Saga?"

"In just a week, we have gained $48,000,000 from in-app purchases and advertisements across all platforms," Minerva responded as graphs with peaks and valleys were displayed on the screen.

Joe nodded, mildly surprised by the profits increment. "We've gained enough to independently research everything about NZT-48 and come up with something more stable. And more perfect."

"Can you search for warehouses on sale? Although the possibilities may be low, narrow it down to desperate sellers that we can easily bargain with?" Joe instructed.

"And deal with supplies and equipment while you are on it."

"Hmm, I hope I didn't sign a slavery contract." Minerva's fake sadness echoed in the dimly lit room.

...

[Word Count 1360]