Jahar
I’m trying, alright? For the last few days, I’ve been on a mission to patch things up with Colette. Compliments, small gestures, anything to show her I care without outright groveling. Subtlety is key, right? Unfortunately, subtlety isn’t exactly my strong suit.
“Hey,” I call as she’s fiddling with some dyes at her workstation. “That’s, uh... a nice shade of green.”
She glances over, arching an eyebrow. “Is it now?”
I shrug, trying to play it off like I hadn’t spent the last minute psyching myself up to say it. “Yeah.”
“Sure thanks, Jahar,” she says, rolling her eyes but with a small smirk tugging at her lips. Progress.
But then there’s Ivan.
Ivan, who has been quietly observing everything I do. Ivan, who now seems to have decided that my awkward attempts at being nice are worth replicating—but, naturally, in his own unnervingly confident way.
We’re all in the main room of Colette’s house when it starts. She’s hunched over, focused on her map-making project, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ivan steps closer, tilting his head slightly like he’s studying her every move. He doesn’t even announce himself, just smoothly leans in.
“That colour compliments your eyes,” Ivan says, his tone level but somehow... intense.
Colette freezes mid-brushstroke, glancing up at him. “What?”
“The green,” Ivan clarifies, gesturing towards the map. “It is a pleasing contrast to the blue of your irises.”
She blinks at him, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”
I choke on air. “Ivan, what are you doing?”
He turns to me, his face calm and utterly oblivious. “I am emulating your behaviour.”
“You're not—” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “You're not at all.”
Ivan looks back at Colette. “Did I misinterpret? Was the compliment ineffective?”
“No, no, it was... fine,” she says, looking equal parts amused and embarrassed. “Just... unexpected.”
Ivan nods, satisfied. “Unexpected can be beneficial in building rapport.”
I want to sink into the floor.
Later, it gets worse.
We’re out gathering supplies together, the three of us walking through the forest. Colette’s picking flowers, muttering something about needing more dye options, when Ivan steps up beside her and plucks a bright yellow bloom from the grass.
“This flower suits you,” he says, holding it out to her.
She stares at it for a moment, her cheeks going pink. “Uh... okay?”
“It is bright, striking, and conveys energy,” he continues. “Like you.”
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She takes the flower slowly, looking up at him with wide eyes like she doesn’t know what to do with this. I’m standing there slack-jawed, feeling an inexplicable pang of irritation.
“Ivan,” I snap, stepping forward. “What are you doing?”
Ivan blinks. “Is there a problem?”
Colette clears her throat, tucking the flower carefully into her inventory. “It’s fine,” she says quickly, avoiding my gaze and smiling to herself. “Let’s just keep moving.”
Great. Now she thinks I’m jealous, and Ivan is strutting around like some AI Casanova. Perfect.
That evening, I corner him while Colette’s in the other room.
“Alright, listen,” I hiss, pointing a finger at his chest. “You’ve gotta stop whatever this is.”
“Stop what?” Ivan asks, his tone completely innocent.
“The... compliments. The flowers. The whole... ‘charming AI’ act.”
“I am not attempting to charm,” Ivan says evenly. “I am replicating your methods of reconciliation.”
“Well, you’re doing it wrong,” I snap.
He considers this for a moment, then nods. “Your methods are ineffective.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“Your compliments lack confidence,” he explains, like he’s giving me a performance review. “Your gestures are hesitant. Colette responds better to directness.”
“Oh, so you’re an expert now?”
“I am learning,” he replies simply. “And improving.”
I groan, throwing my hands up. “You’re impossible.”
“I am efficient,” Ivan corrects, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It's kind of terrifying.
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It’s been a month since Ivan started learning to... what’s the word? Assimilate? No, that sounds too Borg. Whatever it is, he’s perfecting it. His speech is no longer stilted or awkward—it’s natural, smooth, even confident. He still has that precise, almost clinical way of phrasing things, but now it feels less robotic, like he’s just another guy in the room.
Except he’s not just another guy. He’s Ivan. And Colette? She’s eating it up.
Every time I catch sight of them together, they’re deep in conversation. She laughs at his jokes—jokes that shouldn’t even be funny. She nods along to his suggestions, as if every word out of his mouth is pure genius. And it’s not just the talking. It’s the way they work together. She listens to him, trusts him, like he’s the second coming of... whoever she idolises. Meanwhile, I’m standing here like a third wheel in my own game.
It’s subtle, the way she’s changed. She used to question everything, poke holes in every idea just to test it out. She used to argue with me over the smallest details—what to prioritise, how to build our defenses, what resources to gather. But now, if Ivan suggests something, she just... agrees. No hesitation, no second-guessing.
The worst part? She’s right to trust him.
His ideas are good. Better than mine, even. He’s efficient, methodical, always thinking five steps ahead. But it’s more than that. He makes her feel safe. Reassured. Like she doesn’t have to bear the weight of every decision on her own anymore.
And me? I’m just... here. Watching it all happen.
One night, I’m sitting outside, staring at the campfire. The logs crackle and pop, sending embers swirling into the air. Colette and Ivan are at the table, going over one of her maps. She’s smiling, leaning in closer than necessary as Ivan explains something in that calm, steady voice of his.
I grit my teeth, gripping my mug of water so hard it might crack.
“It’s a good plan,” she says, her tone light and easy. “I don’t know how I didn’t think of that before.”
Ivan smiles faintly, the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but still looks annoyingly genuine. “You were focused on other priorities. It is understandable.”
“Still,” she continues, her gaze lingering on him. “Thanks, Ivan. Really.”
My stomach churns. I down the rest of my water in one gulp and slam the mug onto the ground.
They both glance at me, Ivan tilting his head slightly. “Is something wrong, Jahar?”
I force a grin. “Nah. Just enjoying the ambience. Don’t let me interrupt.”
Colette frowns, her brow furrowing like she’s trying to figure me out. But she doesn’t say anything. Of course she doesn’t. Ivan turns his attention back to the map, pointing out some other detail. Colette follows suit, nodding along as he speaks.
I stare at the flames, watching the orange-red glow dance in front of me, the wood slowly blackening as it burns. I sigh. I don't even know why I'm still here.