It wasn’t love she felt when she first saw him.

Predicted compatibility: estimated 84 percent. He’s far from perfect, but he’ll do.

The man’s eyes darted left and right before he stepped off the boat.

Wynonna scanned him. You could tell a lot about a person from their eyes, but often their brows will tell you more about their current state of mind. Presently, his were furrowed, signalling stress. Winona analysed the angle and concluded another emotion: frustration.

She decided she liked the overall look of determination he sported. It was a positive trait rarely seen. Majority of people do not put on such a look, for they have not found something they are so compelled to do that their conviction overflows onto their face. Of the ones who have, they usually do not wear such a piece of facial fashion as they walk on a street full of people, so absorbed in their own thoughts they don’t stop even for speeding cars. She held her breath as he strode onto the road with the red man still lit and braced her heart—or whatever the equivalent was in her system.

It was a five-lane road, the widest the girl had seen in her life. The man’s steps upon the tar road that shone with mottled patches of sparkling rain never slowed. He should have been hit based on her calculations. Based on the number of cars approaching, their relative positions, speeds and the reduced friction on the roads due to the rain, the emergency braking capacity of the cars, the dimness of the street lamps, the dull colour of his coat, and his estimated trajectory, it was unlikely the man would set foot on the other side of the pavement.

Though the angry weather threw an extravagant tantrum, Wynonna saw a far more furious storm brewing within that man’s heart. His fists were clenched the whole time and though he never stopped moving, it was easy to discern that he was trembling. Someone less insightful might have guessed that Wynonna would only have to stalk him for a while longer to find out what it was.

The man made it to the side of the road. He had proved Wynonna wrong. The likelihood of him making it safely across was less than minuscule. Yet, every possible thing that had to happen in order for him to not get hit had occurred. As the man left the safety of the pavement, it was as if he sent a message to every oncoming car so that, even in spite of the camouflage of his coat against the night, the persistent raindrops on the windshields, and the slippery road, the driver would break inches before a tragedy before being triggered into spouting a slew of unsanitary profanities only they would hear regardless whether they wound down their window or not.

Wynonna stood, stunned for a moment, then savoured the strange sensation, for she was almost never wrong.

There were three things which convinced Wynonna that this was the right man for Ilya. The first: He was a highly intelligent man, whose intellectual ability would enable him to engage in stimulating conversations with Ilya, something Wynonna knew her creator would have an appetite for. Second, he was interesting, at least as much as his baggage rendered him. As far as Wynonna could tell, that was plenty. While the first factor would pique her creator’s interest in the man, the second would be sure to sustain it. The third thing was the key element which convinced Wynonna this was the perfect companion for her creator. This was a man whose purpose, if left unfulfilled, would not allow him to die. She was more than sure Ilya would appreciate this shared characteristic.

In the unlikely event that Ilya doesn’t take an immediate liking to the man, his condition would warrant him an extended visit. It would provide Wynonna more time to develop the relationship between them. With only 84 per cent compatibility, he might not be the perfect match for Ilya, but he was definitely the closest she had come to the perfect solution for her mission.

***

The tall establishment towered over him. With its walls of duo-chromed blue-green glass that were no match for the more potent silver-grey that seemed to reach endlessly towards the sky, so reflective it stood almost as a mirage shy behind the curtains of rain, it was obvious the structure had been built to intimidate even in daylight. The man allowed himself only a few moments of a hesitant heart before he shook off every shred of doubt. What he intended next was going to be no mean feat even with full confidence. There was no allowance for a sliver of wavering.

Wynonna watched the man enter the building. After wrestling his way through the unfriendly security, he navigated through the myriad of funhouse equivalent corridors with familiarity and stormed into a large lab. His steps grew more impatient against the cold floor and the spring in his step was so adamant it seemed his feet barely touched the floor.

He had caused quite a ruckus with the security guard while entering, but Wynonna didn’t need that diversion. She got in by other means. Wynonna obtained an access card after accidentally bumping into one of the employees who happened to be leaving and left him with blushing cheeks. Once in the lift, she put on the lanyard before a man entered and returned his smile before scanning for her target. She found him on the third floor and pressed the button that would take her there.

With all the business that happens in prestigious labs like this, no one paid any attention to him. Not until he grabbed the largest conical flask he could see, made his way up to the mezzanine, stood against the railing with his hand out and dropped it. All sixty pairs of glasses pointed in the same direction. Wynonna entered the doorway just as the glass made that terrible sound.

Now that the man had gotten their attention, he began to narrate a series of shocking assertions as his audience gaped at him in all his unkempt glory with the sopping wet coat and hair that stuck to his face, incredulous for only a few moments before someone shouted for security to get this lunatic off their premises. It was clear to everyone in the room that such a demand had been made not because of the lack of sense of his words, but because the claims he put forth, would be far too frightening for anyone if they turned out to be true.

The guard who shoved Wynonna out of the way shot her a vaguely apologetic look before rushing with his comrades to pin down the lunatic.

Wynonna’s target had his face twisted into a scowl when his arms were forced behind his back.

“Fools, you’re all fools!” cried the man as he wrested himself out of the grasp of the men who held him captive, then removed the coat. He stood as the centre of attention.

A few screams pierced the air as palpable gasps filled the room, followed by a string of murmurs. Hands shot to cover mouths agape as all eyes stared at the horror before them. His hair stuck to his wet face, he was drenched and his boots were caked in dirt. But he was not in such an unkempt state that warranted such a reaction. It was his green skin and the plants that were sprouting out of him that had incited the shock.

When Wynonna saw his half-human, half-plant hybrid body, she was intrigued. She studied the leaves and noted it was a flowering plant that was co-existing with him. The green was most concentrated around his arms, but it trailed up towards his shoulders and stopped around his collarbones, as if purposely avoiding the face. From his shoulder blade, short branches had started to sprout. He looked like a fairy with wings too small for his body. Now that the man was not hidden behind a hood, Wynonna was free to scrutinise his face. The man had pretty features—thick eyebrows, deep set eyes, high nose bridge, a heavily-defined cupid’s bow and strong jawline all set fairly symmetrically. The conclusion of this analysis: he was a generally handsome man. But the green that emerged from him had blinded the spectators to any beauty.

“This is what they have done to me,” the man continued explaining his story. “If you don’t listen, if you don’t help, this is what will happen to everybody,” he shouted as a security guard grabbed him, more firmly this time, and pulled him out of the room.

As the scientists resumed their work, Wynonna wondered what they could possibly be working on that was more important than the intentional engineering of human evolution. Then she reminded herself that their response was due to a fundamental flaw of humans, and that it was not really their fault that they behaved that way. Wynonna had been taught by Ilya that many humans, for all the intelligence they have developed, had a natural tendency to take major issues too lightly and will likely always be susceptible to the temptation of prioritising less important things.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

There were two main reasons which explained the reaction of the scientists in the lab to the man’s revelation. Firstly, humans had a curious talent for tricking themselves into believing that something they deem too horrifying is impossible to be true no matter what evidence is presented before them.

Wynonna knew he was the one when she heard him scream on top of the mezzanine. In that guttural cry she recognised a distinct zest for life, for an expression of such anguish could only have arisen from misplaced trust and hope. As the algorithm worked through her, Wynonna’s unsolicited confidence in the man only grew, and not just because she yearned to return to her village soon.

Wynonna had been away from the village for longer than she would have liked and there were a few reasons for the discomfort she felt in the current situation. Firstly, this was the first out-bound mission Ilya had ever sent her on. She couldn’t possibly return empty-handed. Yet the task was admittedly too challenging even for one unaccustomed to failure. Even though she hated to admit it, this was proving far more difficult than she had expected. No matter how many people she scanned, the calculated compatibility with Ilya never reached beyond eighty-percent. Ilya had asked for a perfect match. Wynonna thought it a reasonable request because she believed her creator deserved nothing less. At the start of the mission, Wynonna had aspired for flawless execution—anything otherwise would not adequately convey the immense gratitude she felt towards her creator. But with each second, the clock’s ticks drove themselves into her self-esteem and any hope she had of fulfilling her maker’s wishes steadily diminished.

Secondly, for one whose very nature dictates that every action should be carried out with absolute precision, accuracy and to the highest degree of excellence, and has always taken in her ability to do just that, incompetence and substandard performance was … confusing? What was the word? Frustrating? Destabilising? Unfamiliar. Concepts of emotion were so difficult to grasp.

If only Wynonna had more time… Well, technically (if nothing went wrong), Wynonna did indeed have all the time in the world—that was one of the perks of being an AI robot. Ilya on the other hand … Wynonna shook her head. She wasn’t thinking about the problem the right way. It was foolish of her to indulge in such unproductive ponderings.

Foolishness—another source of the foreign discomfort. Wynonna began to worry that it might be due to some flaw in her system that was contributing to such irregularities in her behaviour. These days, it seemed there was no shortage of deficiencies that she was detecting within her own system. Then she chided herself before reorienting back to the issue at hand, the only one that mattered.

She had swiped a white coat from a neglected chair in a bustling office and presently placed herself among the huddle of overworked junior scientists who were more grateful for the much-needed recess that the huge scene of glass breaking provided than the ground-breaking discoveries unfolding. She stood among the lab, perfectly inconspicuous. Of course, she was, for that was her intention, and whatever the droid intended would always be executed with perfection.

From the reactions of the scientists, it was easy to assess their judgement of the man. They showed no restraint in displaying their disgust for such a vile creature. Hair unkempt, dishevelled clothes and an untidy beard about two weeks overdue for a trim was understandably less than pleasing, but it hardly warranted a turn of the nose at an angle as sharp as some of them had done. The primary source of the visual curdling was the skin contaminated with an unsightly green that reached all the way to his left cheek.

For the first time, Wynonna was witnessing for herself how, in a society so consumed by superficiality, there was no room for acceptance of this palpably flawed person even if he wasn’t in the deranged state he was in. When their gaze fell upon the man, Wynonna recognised the brief moment to be filled with shock and subtle condescension. The few who had let their stares linger for a moment longer as the guards dragged him out of the room did so out of scientific inclination. They eyed the spectacle before them more as a specimen than a man.

It seemed for the majority, that in turning their eyes away, they had also developed the remarkable ability to appear oblivious to the cries produced by the man. That was one of the many displays of irrationality of human behaviour she had had the pleasure to learn of in the months since her conception.

Wynonna scanned the room of intellectuals for one last attempt. The droid hadn’t had much luck with the people outside. Gears turned in her mind as her system started executing the love algorithm. As she suspected, the results revealed that the average compatibility ratio reached was significantly higher in this room than it had been in any other, but her best bet was still curiously the man trying to pry himself from the grasp of three large guards, shouting so loudly he was barely comprehensible as he was dragged out of the building. It was implicitly implied by the high compatibility ratio that the man possessed above-average intelligence, yet it was apparent that he was unaware of the futility of his efforts. This must be yet another one of the demonstrations of human irrationality, caused by an overriding of emotion by reason. Wynonna made a mental note.

Her mind was reeling. Unlike the rest of the scientists in the facility, she had not been so blinded that she neglected to listen to his words. Wynonna hadn’t recovered from the thrill of having discovered the man who would enable the completion of her mission, but the claims currently spewing from his mouth—if they were true, might prove problematic for her plans… or not. Wynonna hadn’t decided.

She contemplated as she trailed behind the departing party and watched the guards toss the man onto the tar pavement glossed by the heavy drizzle. A man with a compatibility ratio that high was hard to find. Granted, he wasn’t perfect, but 84 percent was the highest she had seen, not to mention far higher than any other score she had discovered. The percentage meant two things. One, he stood a chance with Ilya. Two, there was a significantly slim chance of him being found out to have a less than 100 percent probability of compatibility with Ilya, as per her demand.

If the droid brought him to Ilya, it would not be simply his body that she would be introducing to her, but also the issues he carried with him. To the regular person, having a person with a skin deformity as a potential partner might be disappointing and not to mention disturbing. But Ilya was definitely not the average person. Wynonna even thought that perhaps the disease he was afflicted with could serve as an additional point of attraction for the man. Not to mention it could also be a reason for him to prolong his visit if the relationship needed more time to develop. The condition alone would provide enough of a challenge for Ilya to take on, for although she was the genius village doctor, she hadn’t faced a condition as peculiar as this. Even so, Wynonna was confident Ilya would be able to find a remedy for his plight, though it might take some time. It provided a nice reason to lure him to the village, and to get him to stay hopefully long enough for romantic feelings to develop. She wasn’t worried about Ilya’s acceptance of his looks. She knew her well enough to know that Ilya wouldn’t mind—an inevitable conditioning having lived in a community of what some might call ‘incomplete’.

There was another point of consideration—his baggage. Wynonna hadn’t entirely understood what it was that the man had been trying to get the other scientists to understand. She wasn’t familiar with the context. But she knew that whatever reaction the man had been expecting from his audience certainly wasn’t that. His needs hadn’t been met. Most humans found that frustrating. He was on a mission of his own, on his own, and from what she had heard, it concerned the world—the world that Ilya’s village wasn’t a part of.

Ilya had not interacted with the outside world enough for Wynonna to ascertain her creator’s most probable reaction to the solemn baggage the man was carrying. On one hand, Ilya was a compassionate soul who would spare no lengths to save those in danger and alleviate the pain around her. But the very fact that Ilya did not communicate with much of the world outside their community, save for the other waste villages which requested for her help from time to time, could be reflective of an indifference she felt towards the wider world. Who could blame her for forsaking a society that had abandoned her and her people? Ilya would be able to help him. Wynonna was certain of that. Ilya had a talent for helping anybody. But whether she would be willing to risk the secrecy, privacy and safety of her village to help Dimitri in his quest to save the world was anyone’s guess.

It’s not too late to turn my attention to another target, Wynonna told herself. There is a probability of finding another suitable companion considerably less problematic. But the chances of them having a compatibility ratio better than the man before her was grim. All she wanted was to fulfil her promise to Ilya, to live up to her role. This must be a prime example of a dilemma.

Wynonna pushed all doubts out of her mind, leaving no time for any to linger, and settled decisively on a determination to bring the man to Ilya. He represented proof that Wynonna wasn’t flawed, that she was perfectly capable of carrying out her creator’s instructions. She would successfully accomplish her task. Wynonna needed to bring him back. She needed to get the feelings of incompetence out of her system before they festered.

At present, the greatest challenge Wynonna faced was the planning for the perfect execution of a pleasant introduction of herself. It would set the tone for Ilya’s interactions with him and contribute significantly to the probability of the success of their potential relationship. A great first impression could make or break a relationship.