Sometimes, for their company meetings, the Creator chose random spots far too extravagant or different from the mundane conference setting up in Simular’s headquarters. At times, he’d pick the simulated zoological exhibition of extinct, artificially bred canine species or even an old fantasy warzone just shy of being a medieval video game backdrop. Through chaos, he always seemed to be able to find peace within himself.

This time, however, he decided on a quiet café located in downtown Virgin Thermopylae. He couldn’t seem to wave off his worries like before…

“Do you think I’m good with AI?” the Creator asked the ever flamboyantly dressed Azan who had decided on a highlighter yellow suit today. He wondered how that man had never once splattered a single droplet of coffee on his suit, swinging that damned mug of his around every time he voiced an opinion.

“What good do you need to do with AI?” Azan asked. He swiveled the mug outward, spilling gallons of the liquid. It was thanks to Simular’s infinite refilling feature that it never actually ran out. “They’re AI. They fix themselves.”

“I’m not talking about just—Never mind that. Do you think I’m good with people?

“People? I’d say you’re far below average.”

“You’re being serious?”

“Very serious.” Azan finally put down the mug; he started motioning with his hands. “You’re blunt, inexpressive… You barely ever start conversations. Almost feels like you’re too good for everyone else.” He smirked. “I think that’s pretty far from average, yeah?”

Logically, he could see it. He wasn’t the most sociable. But that boy… He needed to open him up—to talk. All he’d ever felt up until now was frustration. It felt like progress wasn’t being made quickly enough. Was he the problem? Or was the boy just another artificial intellect emulator like the rest? Did he have potential or not?

He couldn’t tell.

“If only I could get rid of these emotions…”

“Emotions are what make the person, my friend,” Azan said. He paused to take a small, grossly elegant sip with his little digit raised in the air. “That’s why we have aspirations and dreams.”

“I know that.” But if not for these emotions, he could better sift through all the information—find the solution to his problems and perhaps figure out why the boy enjoyed watching… The Creator sat up for a moment. “Azan,” he called. “What do you think of boxing?”

“Boxing…? Ah, boxing. Well, I think it’s rather lovely.”

“Really? That bloody sport?” Loud, bloody, perhaps even torturous—it reminded him of his old experiments. His mother had called them inhuman, and that was the last thing he wanted the boy to be. The boy had to be human. Especially if he wanted all this to work.

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“Haven’t you done worse?” Azan remarked. “Not that it particularly matters or anything.”

“Those were done with purpose.”

“Sure they were.” He smiled that mischievous smile. “Tell me. What’s all this about?”

“What’s what about?”

“I want you turning a new leaf, not your entirety, yeah?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I know what you’re like,” he emphasized. “I’ve heard it all, so just say it—whatever you’re trying to hide. It’s not like you to be so secretive anyway.”

“It’s not important—”

“But it is. I can tell that much.” Azan gestured at the city streets. “I’ve been here since the day you’ve created this masterpiece. I’m not going to bite after all these years, yeah?”

The Creator let out a deep, long sigh. He had been found out; there was no use hiding it now. “I found the anomaly.”

“Yeah, the AI. I know that already.”

He gave Azan a distasteful side-eye. “Then what do you want to know?”

“I just want to know what our great Creator is so worried about. Look,” Azan remarked. “You’re not willing to spill the beans. I get it.” He nodded as if looking for affirmation. The Creator didn’t react. “Just… go with the flow, yeah?” He shrugged. “Then maybe you’ll stop worrying me too.”

“Go with the flow…” But he still needed information. How could he go with the flow if he didn’t know what he was dealing with? “Azan,” he called. “You have a daughter, right?”

“Yeah? So what if I do?”

The boy was a child. Perhaps some insight from a parent could help in the experimentation process. “How do you, um, subdue your daughter?”

“Subdue?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, but…” Azan rubbed his chin. He seemed uncertain. “I haven’t really spoken much with her lately.” He then narrowed his eyes. “But what’s the occasion? You’re not trying to…” He gasped, eyes suddenly wide like marbles. “Did you have an affair?! Is that what all this is about?”

The Creator rolled his eyes at the baffling conclusion Azan had come up with. “I can’t have an affair if I wasn’t ever married.”

“Really? I thought it was reasonable.”

“Don’t bother.” Perhaps this was well deserved. How could he have not seen this coming from a man like him? “I’ll just figure it out—”

“Now wait just a minute.” Azan raised his finger. “Don’t just brush me off like that.” He tapped on the table rhythmically to the musical ambience of the café. His gaze swerved side to side as if he were taking a gander at every little thing in the vicinity. “Oh!” His eyes lit up. “Listen and validate what they’re saying. Try and understand them, yeah?” He smugly smiled back. “See? I can be helpful too.”

“And this is from personal experience?”

“No, it’s my hypothesis.”

“Great.” He could’ve thought of that himself. How had he trusted this man to manage his company? “You’re—” But then again, he did suppose it was better than nothing. “Nevermind. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Azan glanced over at his watch. “But it’s high time I leave. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes.” But before he left, he reminded the Creator, “Oh, the next one’s important—annual board meeting. You need to be there.” Then he finally headed out, one hand waving behind him. “Don’t forget it!”

Understand him… The Creator wondered about Azan’s hypothetical solution. It was a foreign thought to him. To understand somebody would mean to think in the perspective of the subject in question.

But how could he ever understand someone when he couldn’t even understand his own mother?