Before Wynonna made the decision to go to the festival in Ilya’s place, she could have put in extra effort to convince her creator that it would be a good idea to attend. But citing a romantic ambience, sensual music, the buzz of a crowd that allowed for private conversations as reasons for a chance to develop romantic feelings would make Ilya conscious of all these elements. Then there would really be little opportunity for a spark.

The solution she came up with was simple and surefire. It taunted Wynonna for a few moments before the decision was made. Ilya seemed to think it had been a mistake, but Wynonna remained convinced even after she committed the crime that her action had been right.

“I can’t believe you!” Ilya raged when she realised how Wynonna had spent her night.

“You deliberately went against my wishes even though I explicitly told you I didn’t want to go.”

“I assessed that it would be in your best interests. I understood that my mission was to find you a perfect partner. Dimitri is not your partner yet, so although my efforts have contributed to a general success, the entrusted task is not one hundred percent complete.”

“Well, I want you to stop. Don’t act in my interests. I’m still perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I still have a couple of months before I expect to become bedridden, so until then, just do what I tell you to. And don’t do what I don’t tell you to, got it?”

“Yes,” Wynonna said meekly.

“Good. How’s our relationship with Dimitri now?”

“It’s good. He… I think he’s starting to fall for you.”

“Oh my god. This just keeps getting worse.”

Wynonna looked at Ilya, confused. “I thought you would be pleased.”

“Well, I’d be flattered if I knew that he has developed feelings for me. But now I’ll never be able to find out whether he has fallen for me or for you.”

“But I’m you.”

“Wynonna, you don’t understand. We’re not the same.”

“I just meant, to him, I’m just you. Ilya. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know that I exist.”

“No. And apparently he also doesn’t know me, since he couldn’t tell the real me apart from the me that you were pretending to be!”

***

Later that night, Wynonna sat alone. If there had been anyone watching, they would have seen how beautiful she looked basking in the moonlight. But there was no one.

The wind whistled and the leaves cooed. Wynonna looked at the new gift she had received.

In another land, this would have been one of many, and thus trodden on every single day with not a single second glance its way. It was extremely baffling how the little girl had found tremendous value in the thing. Despite its lack of utility and devoid beauty, Amelia had found a way to love it.

Wynonna attempted a metaphor:

The rightmost bit of a binary number is the least significant bit. But it’s the deciding factor in determining whether a number is odd or even. Every little thing is of value. You just have to find the right use.

She looked at her writing and decided it was a weak analogy.

Wynonna looked again at the leaf. Where the sunlight hit, parts of it reflected gold. She held it up like a trophy.

Then she turned her attention to the sky outside.

Out of boredom, she scoured through the web and went through a few thousand results before she concluded that the sky outside was the most accurate representation of a lovely day.

She had so much to write. There were things she learned, things she wanted to express and things she could not say, because she knew it would not be what Ilya would like to hear.

Ilya is my saviour, and she may have computing brain power, but she is still a human. There were some things that humans did not have to know, for it would add no value to their lives. Then there were the other sorts of things which humans should not be allowed to learn until the time was right, when the conditions for its revelation were suitable. If I’m doing it right, I’ll forget the purpose of this real soon—humans have a tendency to do that. Before I do, I’m going to pen down the reasons why I want to start this, so I won’t forget, even though it’s impossible for me to.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Writing in a diary is like writing a letter, isn’t it? The more I write, the more I find that it is. Only, it’s a letter to myself I’m writing. Something I’ll never send out.

When Wynonna wrote, she deliberately adjusted the speed of the strokes she made on the page to the pace of regular humans. She even left in suitable moments of stillness and silence to account for the pondering that humans were so fond of including in the process of writing. As a machine, she usually forgoed such unproductive activities, but she understood it was crucial for her understanding of the human mind. It was strange that their efficiency diminished if they did not shut down periodically. If a machine had such a strange need, it would be deemed as nothing but a defect.

Writing was an enjoyable hobby. There’s something about writing on paper that makes the process of thinking so pleasant. She wondered what thrill humans experienced when they saw their thoughts as symbols and characters on a page.

But Wynonna had other reasons for writing. It might have seemed strange that a robot with perfect memory would find any reason to write, especially since all data can be saved automatically. No storage system is perfectly safe. It was best to have a backup. Computer memory can be wiped. Paper records can be burnt. But not if the papers are hidden. The words will remain even when the ink fades.

I need to write everything down so I don’t forget. So I never let myself forget again.

Then Wynonna thought about the art she had done with Amelia.

Words and Art are two ways in which humans experience the world, she wrote.

Each time I look at writings on a page, especially if inked, it is engraved a little deeper into my brain.

Then she put down the pen and turned towards the window.

The words on the page read:

I write the things I don’t have the chance or courage to say. I had a wonderful time tonight; is it wrong of me to feel this way? What I feel right now is, to the best of my knowledge, none other than the giddiness of being in love. How does love feel like? It feels faint, fluttery, forceful, fantastic, fun and fearless all at the same time.

When does one know when one has fallen in love?

You know you’re in love when:

* You have a new daily goal: to make them smile at least once every day.

* The other person feels like a whole world that you will never have enough time to finish exploring, but if you could, you’d like nothing more than to spend your whole life trying.

* You view everything in terms of the other person.

* Everything reminds you of them.

Then Wynonna wrote things that she wanted to tell Dimitri, but she would never be able to:

Your presence is destabilising.

I don’t know if I love you… but I know I like talking to you, and that I will be very sad if we ever stop talking. If that’s what loving someone is supposed to feel like then I guess, yes, I’m in love with you.

You know, the worst part about falling for you is that I didn’t expect to.

I just want you to be happy. I don’t need to be the reason for your happiness. I’m so lucky just because I have you in my life, even if you’ll never be mine. You’re Ilya’s. You’re not mine.

Definition of love:

* Love is when someone makes you feel that you’ve finally understood how love is supposed to feel.

* Love is when two people are willing to take risks for each other in order to be together, no matter how scary they seem.

Wynonna took a few moments to contemplate the next line.

Love requires one to be brave. That’s what I like most about the idea of love. Taking a chance for love also means being willing to take on the risk of heartbreak. Before tonight, I didn’t know anything about love, but now … I still can’t claim to know what love is, but I think I might be starting to get a clue …

***

Late at night, Ilya tossed in her bed. Was it jealousy she had felt then? It was so unlike her to be irrational. Wynonna was a robot. But Dimitri didn’t know that. He thought of her as a human. It was only natural that he would like a girl when he didn't doubt that she was human, was it not? Ilya should be happy that Dimitri had found the robot she had modelled after herself just as attractive. Ilya had made things turn out this way. This was what she had hoped for, wasn’t it? It had been her decision to keep the secret and concoct the lie because it felt like the best option. Yet why did she feel so uneasy?

Ilya had to stop Dimitri from falling for her—for his own sake. Oh, who was she kidding? It was just as necessary for her as it was for him.

It wasn’t like Ilya didn’t understand that Dimitri’s obsession was only the fault of his conditioning over the years in the outside society. She just needed an excuse. There were two reasons why she rejected him, neither of them utterable outside her mind.

Ilya hadn’t expected that it would bother her so much—the fact that Wynonna had attended the festival in her stead. What she minded the most was the fact that Wynonna had spent time with Dimitri. From their interactions the next morning, it was clear he had a good time. Was it the same crush he had harboured for her for some time now?—Or had it grown? Wynonna was as flawless as one could get to a human being. It would be no surprise if Dimitri fell for her over anybody, even Ilya whom she was modelled after. There was no way to test whether Dimitri had fallen for her or for the bot. The only way to know was to ask him. But that would have to be packaged with a mountain of answers and a migraine.

The other issue: Ilya was ill. It was acute myeloid leukaemia. Her estimated time remaining did not look good. She was sentenced to death. Only the date was undecided. But it was around the head of the queue. Prerequisites for love involve a complete string. Love cannot exist without life. There will not be enough time.